


UnHinged

by Crazythatcounts



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: F/M, Fan Art, Gen, General fiction, M/M, Multi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazythatcounts/pseuds/Crazythatcounts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Hanna is a little not all there in the head, and when he's rescued by a cop - Casey - and taken home for the evening, it comes to be known that not all is as it seems and not everyone is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_In Which There Are Good Guys and Mutant Squirrels_

"We have report of a 415 on Applewood, I repeat a 415 on Applewood"

He'd actually been asleep when the call came in through the cruiser's radio. He groggily forced himself up in the seat, one hand on his head, the other reaching for the radio. "Copy that. On my way." He didn't bother to make himself sound more awake, and the next second he was setting the radio down and fumbling with his seatbelt. Yes, a 415  public disturbance  was generally common at two o'clock in the morning, but it had been called in and he had to deal with it. 

Stepping out of his car, he stretched his arms to the sky. He certainly didn't look like your average cop  bright orange shirt and black tie, no patches or metals to prove his authority; nothing except the holsters over his shoulders and the badge sticking out of his left pocket  and he wouldn't deny it, either. Officer Casey Williams  Officer Casey to everyone but the thugs that pushed him too hard  preferred the officer training and teaching he did during most of the hours he worked. 

But, you know, when the station is down five guys thanks to bad burgers and you're the only one not exhausted enough for a five hour night shift, there isn't really much choice left in the matter. 

"Next time I get a night shift I'm bringing someone with me." He said, lovingly patting the cruiser on the hood twice before heading out into the street. The night around him was quiet and still, the only noise the rustle of the leaves in a brisk summer breeze. Casey quietly removed his flashlight from his belt and turned it on, casting it's glow around him in a wide arch. 

For a disturbance, it was awfully peaceful. 

"Hello?" He started down the street. The houses around him were generally unused, run down shacks that drew dealers and the shady business types from all corners. Their open doorways gaped at him like mouths with broken glass teeth, the windows above dark soulless eyes boring holes into his being. A rat rustled the curtains in the nearest house and Casey jumped. His heart raced in his chest. 

"Fuck, this neighborhood is creepy at night." He chuckled, relieved that it was really only vermin and not something worse. An ambush was the last thing he needed. 

A noise caused him to spin around again to face a broken down old fence into an abandoned back yard. That sound was most certainly _not_ a rat. He tried to peer through the broken slats from the street, but it was too dark behind them. 

"Hello? This is the police, is everything alright back there?" He called, shining his light through the broken fence. For a long moment, he got no response, and he was about to approach the house and see if it was abandoned and if he could get into the back yard when he heard the scream.  It was then that it became less of a time to ask permission and more of a time to hop the broken fence, which was something Casey was actually quite good at doing. He vaulted the fence, grabbing one of his guns as he did so, so that when he landed he was armed with flashlight and firepower. 

The yard was empty except for the occasional squirrel. Patches of crabgrass and weeds stuck up above the ankle deep grass, which was yellow under the beam of Casey's flashlight. Something smelled distinctly of standing water, and there was a garden gnome, Casey noted, turned over and covered in moss, or mold. 

"Hello?" Casey ventured, and a sort of whimpering cry responded from around the corner of the house. "Ah, shit." He muttered, dropping his weapon and trotting around the jutting corner of the house. He was expecting a murder, or abuse, or something incredibly sinister considering how everything else looked. 

Instead, he found the corner relatively empty. The only occupants were a rather perplexed squirrel and a boy that didn't look older than his mid teens. The boy was curled in on himself in the corner, all wide blue eyes and muddy face, matted orange hair and broken glasses. He didn't have shoes, and he was holding a marker out threateningly towards the squirrel. Black swirls of ink from the marker covered every inch of his exposed skin, which was most of his torso and legs, considering he was only in shorts and a battered tank top. Too little clothing for the night, which was cold as hell for the summer. 

"D-Don't let it too close!" The kid hissed, his eyes trained on the squirrel. "They'll eat your mind and sell your soul to their leaders for cheap nuts!" His marker wavered, and he looked nearly ready to cry. 

"Hey, kid, it's just a squirrel." Casey almost found this whole thing funny, but the desperate fear in the kid's eyes stopped his laughter. The kid didn't seem to register he said anything. "Kid, it's a squirrel." He took a step closer, and the kid yelped, marker shaking in his hands. 

Casey and the squirrel considered each other. "Shoo. Go on. Be bold and creepy somewhere else, the kid doesn't need you frightening him." He told it. It eventually bounded off with some encouragement from the end of Casey's flashlight. 

"It didn't eat you!" The kid shouted, looking between where the squirrel was and where Casey was standing. Now that Casey was closer, he could see that the kid was rail thin and almost a little blue under the flashlight beam. 

"You okay, kid?" Casey asked, squatting down next to where the kid was huddled. With a startled squeak, the kid shifted backwards against the dirty siding. 

"It didn't eat you  are you and him together? Are you working with the mutant squirrels? Are you supplying them nuts and human brains?" The marker shot back out from where the kid had put it away, this time pointing at Casey. The cop took a moment before flopping to the dirty grass, folding his arms over his raised knees. 

"No, I'm just a cop. Someone called in a disturbance and I came to check." He tried a smile, and it seemed to lessen the fear in those bright blue eyes. "So, uh, you okay? The mutant squirrel didn't bite you or anything?" 

"No, I kept him away with my runes. They don't like runes." The kid nodded, as though this was the most common way of dealing with mutant squirrels. "D-Do you have runes on you?" 

Casey slipped a little closer, and while the kid flinched, he didn't back away. "Not that I know of. I know I'm no good with runes. You want to write one on me? Just in case the squirrels come back." He rolled up his sleeve to the elbow and extended his bare arm. Hopefully, he thought, watching the kid consider the proffered limb, this would be enough to get the kid to trust him. He had no idea who this kid belong to, or who he was, but he was certain one thing  he was getting this kid in the cruiser and wrapped in a blanket if it was the last thing he did. Because otherwise, he was terrified that the kid was going to die out here. 

"Okayyyyy, sure. I dunno what a rune is gonna do to a zombie, but I can try." The kid offered a smile back at Casey and reached for the arm, beginning to draw something complicated and curling on the bare skin. Casey watched him thoughtfully. 

Zombie? Casey stared at his own hand. He didn't _think_ he was a zombie. He was pretty sure he was alive. He pressed a hand to his chest. Yep, there was his heartbeat. He was living alright. His brow furrowed and he turned to ask the kid where he got the zombie thing from, but stopped himself. The kid was happily scribbling away on Casey's arm, rambling quietly about the affects of runes on zombies and for the first time since they met, he looked at peace. He looked at peace and relatively happy, and for some reason Casey had the feeling that he shouldn't shatter the kid's ideas, strange or not strange. 

"So, Mr. Zombie officer sir, I know it's probably a sensitive subject and everything but what's it like being a zombie cop?" The kid asked, looking up from the arm and capping his marker. Casey smiled for a moment, before looking the kid right in the eyes, which seemed to push him back slightly before pulling him in further. 

"You mean a dead-beat officer?" Casey tried the joke, but it didn't register. The kid just kept staring at him with those big, almost empty blue eyes like Casey was about to tell him the answer to life itself.  "I don't know how much I can say on the zombie part that makes sense" He cringed at the horrible dodge, but the kid didn't seem to mind. "But, uh, being a cop is pretty cool. I get a badge, and a gun, and a car with lights and stuff on it." He paused. 

"You wanna see? My cruiser is just around the corner." He offered his newly rune-protected hand at the kid, and eventually the kid nodded, taking the hand. They stood, together, and Casey noticed that the kid was shivering and covered in peeling bandages. He, on impulse, wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders to keep him warmer. 

"Don't touch me don't touch me don't _touch me_!" The kid quite suddenly screamed, shoving against Casey violently until they were a good few feet apart, before beginning to pull at his own hair. He screamed for what seemed like forever; screamed until his voice gave out, hoarse and battered and sounding raw like it went through a blender; screamed until his fingers in his hair drew blood, running down his hands; screamed until his knees went out and he toppled  and even then he kept on trying. He screamed angry screams, violent screams, screams of frustration and hate. 

And Casey didn't move until the kid stilled, curled on the grass and clutching his head and sobbing so hard his back shook with hiccups. Sobbing angry, futile sobs. 

"Hey, kid?" Casey took a step in closer, and once sure that the kid wasn't going to lash out again, began to inch his way over. He knelt by the kid's side, hand hovering over the shaking back, the too thin ribs and the beaten shoulders. He was scared to touch the kid, but eventually he left his hand fall softly against the tattered shirt, ready to jump back if the kid lashed out again. 

He nearly did jump when the kid suddenly sat up, but instead of lashing out the bandaged arms sought shelter around Casey's waist and the kid basically vaulted into his lap, clinging desperately to that orange shirt with blue fingers and pressing his face into Casey's chest. "Hey, hey, shh. It's okay, kid." Casey murmured, softly rubbing the kid's back as he sobbed away. "It's alright. You're safe with me, I'm one of the good guys." 

"Good guys." The words came out choked, but with a nod, those fingers only tightening in Casey's shirt and the knees coming further into his lap. 

"Yeah, the good guys." Casey nodded, letting the silence linger for a moment before adding, "You still want to see my cruiser?" This was answered by a nod, the sobs quieting slightly even though the grip remained tight as ever. This, of course, posed a problem considering that Casey didn't know if the kid would get up and walk. "Hey, you, uh want me to carry you?" He asked. This was also met with a nod, and the tight fingers loosened their grip enough so that Casey could get his arms under the kid's knees enough to hoist him up. 

It bothered Casey that the kid was very, very light. Light and now silent, almost like he wasn't even there at all. "Hey, uh what's your name, kid?" Casey forced a chuckle, shifting the kid in his arms slightly before heading for the fence, pushing through the gate with his back. His shoes felt loud on the concrete, and he couldn't help but focus on what seemed nothing more than a child's weight in his arms. 

"Hanna." The kid murmured, face pressed so tightly against Casey's shirt that the voice came out muffled. "Hanna Cross." 

"But Hanna is" Casey started, but he decided it was probably better not to bring up that Hanna was not a boy's name. He sort of smiled at the bundle in his arms, ruffling the matted hair just slightly in affection and slight pity. "Hanna Cross, huh? My name's Casey Williams. It's nice to meet you." He felt Hanna nod in his arms, which he expected was all the answer he was going to get. 

When he got to the car, he opened the passenger side door and set Hanna down in the seat, gently taking the hands wound so deeply into his shirt and holding them tightly. "I've got to grab something from the trunk, I'll be right back, okay?" 

Those hands suddenly shot out and grabbed at his shirt again, pulling at him to stay. "No, no, please stay, please." Hanna scrambled for a hold on the orange fabric, eyes pressed tightly closed in his own panic. "Don't go please don't leave me everyone leaves me please!" He thrashed in desperation until orange clad arms wrapped him in a hug to stop him. 

"I'm not leaving you. I'm not going anywhere. I just want to get you a blanket." Casey held Hanna away at arm's length, making sure to connect to those frightened blue eyes. "I will be right back, I promise, but you've got to let me go so I can come back. Can you do that?" He watched that face and those eyes avidly until there was a started sort of nod in response, and the fists in his shirt loosened until they fell into Hanna's lap. "Thank you. I won't go far. I promise."

With that, Casey stood, and after making sure Hanna wasn't going to vault after him, trotted over to the back of the cruiser. He popped the trunk and pulled an emergency blanket from the back, tossing it over his shoulder and shutting the trunk with a bang. When he returned, Hanna was still sitting in the exact same place, though his eyes held a surprised almost _glee_ that Casey had actually returned. 

"You came back." He murmured, as Casey wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders. 

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" Casey smiled, rubbing Hanna's shoulders in a gesture of comfort. He gently pushed Hanna's legs into the car, before shutting the door and heading to his own seat. 

"Everyone leaves." Hanna suddenly mumbled, curled up in the blanket and looking smaller than ever. The comment, so small and so calm that it was almost frightening, caught Casey slightly off guard, leaving him frozen, buckle halfway to its latch. What on earth, he thought, taking in the impossibly tiny frame beside him, lost amid the blanket and those too large glasses, what on _earth_ could happen to someone to make them think that so whole-heartedly?

Casey shook his head. He'd find out in good time, he was sure of it. Right now, he had more important priorities  like reporting this to the station and finding the kid a place to stay. 

~*~*~*~

The station was impossibly quiet. Of course, it was three in the morning, but still. Casey had one hand on Hanna's far shoulder, guiding him silently through the white-and-tile maze of law enforcement. He didn't know _why_ he felt so on edge, but he chocked it all down to a stressful night. Approaching his office, he pushed the door open to find his partner half asleep in his chair, the news blaring from a ceiling mounted TV. 

"Chuck." Casey knocked on the door. No response. " _Chuck!_ " He knocked harder, and finally the sound drew a snort of waking from the man in the chair. "Where _is_ everyone?" 

"Di'n't know i'was bring yer kid t'work day." Chuck slurred, massaging his face. "Why t'kid?"

" _Where is everyone?_ " Casey repeated, with a little more urgency. Chuck yawned. 

"You didn't get the radio call?" He asked, sitting up and spinning in the chair. "Apartment fire on main. All available units were dispatched. Really, though, who's the kid?" He gestured to Hanna, who had stayed quietly behind his trusted officer, peering out under Casey's raised arm. 

"Found him. I was hoping to find Lisa and ask about child services or something for him." Casey put his hand down on Hanna's head, ruffling his hair, and the kid made a sort of appreciative noise. "Can't find her, either."

"Yeah, well, for one, it's three in the morning, Casenova." Chuck rolled his eyes. "No one is here at three in the morning. She'll be back in tomorrow if you still need to talk to her." 

"Dammit." Casey pulled his free hand over his face, before reaching back to scratch his neck. "Thanks, Chuck. Hey, uh, if anyone comes back and asks, I've covered the 415 and found a priority to deal with." He waited for Chuck's nod before shutting the door quietly. Hanna was staring at him with almost curious blue eyes. 

"Well, there goes that plan." Casey shook his head, starting down the hallway again with Hanna in tow. "I was hoping to find you someplace decent to stay tonight, but there's no one to ask, so that's basically a no." He chuckled. 

"Does that mean I have to sleep outside again?" Hanna asked. Again, the words came out strangely calm and quiet  partly due to Hanna having fucked up his throat with the screaming  considering their content. The again worried Casey the most. 

"No, no, of course not." He pushed open the exit door, letting Hanna out first. "It just means I'm going to have to improvise some. You can stay with me, and _hopefully_ my boyfriend won't mind too much."

"I can really stay with you?" Hanna seemed strangely delighted at what Casey thought was the only obvious choice left. If Hanna thought Casey was going to leave him on the curb, then Hanna had a lot to learn about his protector. Or, Casey thought with a smile, his adoptee. 

"Of course. And when we get home, _you_ are getting a bath and some better first aid." He reached out and took Hanna's hand, and besides a slight flinch at the contact, the redhead didn't seem to mind it all too much. 

As they piled back into the cruiser, Casey found himself thinking over what had just happened. To an outsider, it probably looked like he just picked up a kid off the streets and basically adopted him right then. And well, that was partly true. But, Casey considered, listening to Hanna's hoarse voice chatter on beside him about baths and rain and other various things, Hanna was a lot like a cat. 

No matter how much you think _you_ adopted the cat, in reality, it was the cat that adopted you. And as Casey looked into Hanna's muddy face, too large glasses and those blue eyes that were lit up with the promise of home, he knew two things:

One, whoever chose whomever, they chose well, and two it was going to be a long, long road yet to come.


	2. Chapter 2

_In Which There Are Clocks, Bathtimes and Pancakes_

 

Casey's apartment was on the third floor of a rather standard apartment complex, one of those that isn't built to be fancy, but instead just built to last years and years of various types of customers. The particular apartment had been previously owned by several of the interesting renters that came through, including two Casey personally busted for drug smuggling, a wired up alcoholic that eventually drowned himself in Four Loco before it went off the market, and a woman that was evicted because she owned fifty-four cats. 

However, the apartment – number 312, down at the end of the hallway and on the right – was certainly what Casey called home. He unlocked the door with his key, Hanna wrapped in the blanket behind him. Inside, the place was sort of sparsely furnished, with a few pieces of furniture in warm colors and the occasional Victorian style decoration. A large grandfather clock greeted them by chiming the time – 3:30 in the morning – and the chime was echoed by the various clocks scattered around the apartment. 

"Clocks." Hanna commented, sticking close to Casey as they entered the apartment and he shut the door. "There are clocks everywhere."

"Yeah, that's my boyfriend." Casey chuckled, quietly. "Now, shh. We gotta be quiet, he's probably sleeping." 

"Okay. Shh." Hanna giggled, as quietly as he apparently could, which wasn't very quietly at all. Casey led him through the main room and past the bedrooms to one of the bathrooms. Once again, it was furnished in warm colors, with a large tub that had one of those shower hoses generally used for the elderly and pets. 

"Okay, first things first, you get a bath." Casey went over to the tub and began to run the water, kneeling down by it. "I'm gonna help you with your hair, since it's so matted." 

"D-Do you have to?" The squeak of noise that came from Hanna made Casey look up. The kid was standing there, the blanket having fallen from his shoulders and collected in the crook of his elbows. He looked frightened again, and almost…. Nervous?

"I would probably say so, unless you don't _want_ to be completely clean." Casey tried to smile reassuringly, but it didn't seem to help. "If you're embarrassed about getting undressed… well, it's nothing I haven't seen before." He chuckled. 

"No, it's not…" Hanna shook his head, almost angrily now. "It's not that." He grumbled. He pulled the blanket closer around his arms, fingers digging deep into the fabric. 

"Is it…?" He didn't dare say the word _bandages_ , because Hanna already seemed so on edge it would probably only set him off. He did, however, gesture to the bandages wrapped haphazardly around Hanna's skin, covered in runes. Hanna glanced at his own arms, which tightened over his chest slightly. 

"Kind of." He grumbled. 

"… Hanna, scars are nothing to be embarrassed about." Casey tried to explain, but Hanna's foul mood seemed to deflect the comment into the ether. Casey watched him for a moment, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out how to connect to the kid despite the anger bubbling from him. Then, slowly, he crawled forward on his knees and put a hand on Hanna's shoulder. "Hanna, look at me." Eventually, Hanna did so, but there was a glare in his eyes, like he detested everything he saw. "Scars are nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of, and that's from personal experience."

Here, he undid his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt, and this action made Hanna step back warily. "No, no, don't worry, I just want to show you." He smiled, but there was something almost… nostalgic about it. And not in a good way. 

When he pulled back his shirt and let it slip off his shoulders, Hanna couldn't help put a hand to his mouth. Casey's chest was certainly scarred. Bullet scars, thin lines on his shoulders, all sorts of battle scars littered his chest from years of dealing with the wrong kind of kids. "See? I have scars too. I think everyone has a few scars here and there, whether you can see them," he gestured to his chest, "or not." He then put a finger to his head, and Hanna nodded, understanding. After a brief pause, the redhead let the blanket drop to the floor and peeled off the dirty, tattered tank-top. 

Casey quickly understood why the kid would be embarrassed. His chest has a large scar spanning it, a giant zigzag on his skinny chest, plus lots of little tiny scratches and scrapes all along his arms and legs. What wasn't bandaged was scarred so badly it looked like Hanna had been thrown through an open window. Hanna wasn't looking at Casey, but rather at his dirty feet, arms crossed over his chest and brow furrowed. 

"Hey, Hanna, they're not…. That bad. It's alright." Casey reached out to put a hand on Hanna's shoulder again, but Hanna batted it away roughly. 

"It's alright? They're not _that bad_?" Hanna snapped, though luckily he remembered to keep his voice to an angry hiss, which really only made it sound worse. "Fuck, do you see me? Do you see what I've fucking done to myself before? Don't even _tell me_ that it's all right because it's not and it never will be!" Hanna did let out a quieted scream, whining and high pitch and frustrated beyond all belief, like a steam kettle finally reaching its peak. His hands went to the back of his neck and his back, and after a second he sort of dropped to a seated position before flopping back onto the tile floor with a groan. 

"…Hanna?" Casey asked, concerned. 

"Gimme a minute." Hanna half growled, though it was easy to tell the anger was fading from his system. 

After another long moment, "they really aren't that bad," Casey repeated, watching Hanna lie on the floor. After a second, Hanna pushed himself to a sitting position, looking more tired than he had all night. 

"Mm." Hanna mumbled, his eyes becoming distant again as he stared at the floor. Casey crawled over to Hanna and pulled him into a hug, which the redhead gratefully accepted and reciprocated. "Even though they're all because of me?" Hanna eventually asked. His voice was so quiet Casey only just made out what he said. 

"Where they came from doesn't matter." Casey whispered, rubbing Hanna's back, fingers worriedly tracing Hanna's slightly exposed spine. 

"I'm a mess." Hanna wrapped his arms around Casey's waist a little tighter. "M'a fuckin' _mess_."

"Hanna." Casey smiled, resting his chin on Hanna's head. "You're not a mess, you're just… you. Though I will admit, you're still really quite messy and still need to get into the tub." Casey grinned when the comment caused Hanna to chuckle exhaustedly, and after a moment the redhead pulled back from the hug, slipping off his shorts and underwear and climbing into the tub. The water sloshed a little, but it was certainly warm. Hanna, however, still seemed self conscious about his chest and refused to relax. 

"Okay, how about this – I help you with your hair, and then I'll leave and you can do the rest, yeah?" Casey asked, trying to compromise. "And then when you get out we can re-bandage everything and I can make you something to eat before we sleep. Is that okay?" 

Eventually, Hanna looked up, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Can you make pancakes?" He asked, sounding like a child that, although they just got into trouble they were being told it was alright. 

"Of course, if you'll eat them." Casey smiled, reaching out and taking Hanna's hand, pulling slightly at the wet bandage. "We do need to get these off first, before they disintegrate." He started unwrapping it, and Hanna let him, wriggling his toes in the water. As the bandages came off, revealing fresh scabs of cuts and scrapes and self damage, Hanna finally began to relax into the water until he was nearly under it entirely as Casey pulled the last part of a bandage from his leg. 

"Okay, now let's do your hair so I can get you some clean clothes and start those pancakes, yeah?" Casey smiled, and he actually got a smile in return from the redheaded boy, who looked so extremely tired now that he was warm and getting clean. 

The shampoo smelled of spices and clean towels and something else, the origin of which occupied Hanna for the entire time Casey worked on his hair. The red curls became redder once the dirt and grime began to disappear, the water turning an ugly murky brown. When it came time to rinse, Casey grabbed the shower hose, gently rinsing the suds from Hanna's hair and trying not to get it in his eyes. 

"Why do you have one of those?" Hanna asked, nose still buried in the shampoo bottle as the mystery had yet to be solved. 

"I got shot in the leg a while back and had problems standing upright without a crutch." Casey explained, running conditioner through the red-headed mop to loosen some of the tangles. Hanna hummed approvingly at the hands on his head, leaning back slightly into the fingers massaging his scalp. "It was a gag gift from a friend, but it ended up being pretty useful after all."

"That's kinda cool." Hanna murmured, attention already back on the bottle.  "I am never going to figure this out." He muttered, frowning at the bottle. 

"Okay, well… I'm gonna go get you a towel and some clothes. Try not to overfill the tub, alright?" Casey ruffled Hanna's wet hair and stood, picking up his discarded shirt and tie from the floor and exiting the bathroom. However, a tiny little yelp from the bathroom had him turned around and back in the threshold a moment later. 

"Will you… come back?" Hanna asked, half out of the tub, obviously slightly panicked. "I-I mean after you've gotten the clothes and the towel and stuff you'll-you'll come back, right?" At Casey's nod in response, Hanna settled back into the tub, no longer relaxed or bothering with the shampoo. 

"Don't worry, I'll be just down the hall if you need me, okay?" Casey assured Hanna, before making his way out of the room again. He trotted down the hall and into his bedroom, sneaking quietly into the closet. He waited a moment, making sure his boyfriend's snores were still audible before pulling out one of his t-shirts and slipping it on. The orange shirt and tie got tossed towards the hamper, and then began the search for the smallest shirt and pants in the closet. What Casey came up with was probably still incredibly huge for Hanna, but considering everything else was bigger it would have to do. With that, he quietly snuck from the room, closing the door and heading down the hall. He grabbed a towel from the linen closet, as well as the first aid kit that they stored in there, and padded back to the bathroom, opening the door and letting himself in. 

Once he closed the door, he found himself facing Hanna, who was standing in the middle of the room, shivering and naked. Casey set the clothes down on the counter and wrapped Hanna in the towel, drying his hair off with it and exciting giggles from the redhead within. When he went to dry Hanna's shoulders, the shock of hair decided to imitate an angry bird and fluff up, which made Casey laugh as well. 

"Okay, now, the bandages." Casey went for the first aid kit, popping it open. He led Hanna to the toilet, sitting him on it while he worked on Hanna's legs. There were only a few new cuts that needed bandages, so instead of wrapping the entire leg, he opened a pack of dinosaur band-aids and used two over each cut. Hanna's arms, however, had several new cuts and scrapes, so for those Casey wrapped a long bandage around Hanna's arm. The redhead watched with blank eyes, the monotony of the process showing in his mechanical movements and set face. 

Once done, Casey went for the clothes. The shorts went to Hanna's mid calf and were way too big around the waist, but luckily Casey had supplied a belt that held them up well enough. The shirt decided to swallow him, but after some adjusting they managed to make it not fall off both shoulders at once, and just one. They made Hanna look even smaller, like he was just a baby in comparison to the adult sized clothes. 

"Now, pancakes?" Casey asked, and Hanna nodded, still ruffling his hair with the towel. They ventured back out of the bathroom and into the nearby kitchen, where Casey went into the pantry and retrieved the instant pancake mix. "What do you like in them, hm?" 

"Chocolate chips?" Hanna asked, half buried in the towel, but smiling none the less. A comfortable silence fell over them as Casey began mixing the chocolate chip pancakes. Eventually, Hanna broke the silence, looking somewhat sad, even with the still lingering smile on his face. "Hey, uh…" He paused, struggling for a moment. "Ezekiel?" He shook his head because he knew it wasn't the officer's name, but he pressed on anyway. "Uh, thanks. For letting me stay and all. Even though I'm kinda weird and messed up and shit." He crossed his arms on the table, resting his head on them with a sigh.

"Hanna." Casey turned, listening to the first of the pancakes sizzle on the stovetop grill. "It's no big deal. We've got room, and Ples'll understand, and besides. You're really good company." Casey smiled, brightly, and Hanna smiled in return, swinging his legs broadly. 

"Ples?" 

"My boyfriend." Casey chuckled, turning back to the pancakes and flipping them over. The smell of cooking pancakes and warm chocolate had filled the room by then, and left them both with a feeling of warmth and companionship. 

"Casey?" The voice came from the hallway, and Hanna jumped, darting behind the counter and to Casey's side with a gasp of surprise. "Casey, is everything alright? And why does it smell like you're making something with chocolate?" 

"Uh, because I'm making… pancakes?" Casey tried to explain, offloading the first batch of pancakes. With a pat on the head, he separated himself from Hanna and made his way to the hallway, intercepting his very tired boyfriend before he could come into the kitchen proper. "Actually, there's something I need to talk to you about first…"

"Hmm?" Ples looked very confused and very, very tired. His hair was messed up from sleep and he was wearing only a nightshirt with his boxers, so it gave him the appearance of being unkempt and more tired than he was. "Will it explain why you're making pancakes?"

"Yes, yes it will. Uh, well, you see, I got this 415 and when I got there I found this kid, and he was lost and alone and there was no one else around so I took him back to the station but Lisa wasn't there, so…" Casey rubbed the back of his neck slightly. "Since I couldn't find him a foster home I brought him back here." 

"You what?" Ples was too tired to be properly curious or annoyed, but the irritation in his voice made Casey jump to explain anyway. 

"I brought him home. He isn't… Ples, he's not really all there, you know?" Casey whispered, careful for Hanna not to hear him. "He needs someone to look after him, and he trusts me and there is no way I could ever let myself just leave him out there alone again." He put both hands on Ples's shoulders. "I know you're not fond of Veser already being in and out all the time but I'm going to make it a priority to find the kid's parents, and soon, so if he's here he won't be for long and he can stay with me all day, so it's like he won't be here at all." 

Ples watched Casey's face for a moment, his boyfriend's dark eyes giving him the most pleading sort of look they could manage. Eventually, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Alright, fine. He can stay." Ples looked up at Casey and yawned, wrapping one arm around his boyfriend's waist. The smile on Casey's face was contagious, and Ples had to smile with him. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue right now, you know. We can talk specifics in the morning. But I do have one condition." Here, he paused to yawn again. "I get some of those pancakes and then _you_ are coming to bed." He pulled Casey closer and Casey wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck in a short, tired hug. 

"I can do that." Casey said, kissing Ples softly.  With that, he took his boyfriend by the hand and led him into the kitchen, where Hanna was waiting right where Casey left him, standing in the middle of the tile kitchen in his too big sweatshirt and shorts. "Ples, this is Hanna. Hanna, this is my boyfriend, Ples." Casey introduced them.

"Are you one of the good guys, too?" Hanna asked, looking at Ples with innocently curious eyes, his hands clasped together through the fabric of the sweatshirt. Ples faltered, slightly thrown off guard by the question that, no matter how random it seemed to him, seemed to be one of those things the redhead always asked.  

"Good guys?" 

"Yeah, uh… Inigo? Inigo is one of the good guys 'cause he's a cop and he saved me and everything. Are you one of the good guys, too? I mean, you don't have to be a cop to be a good guy but still." Hanna smiled, and the gesture seemed to put the whole room at ease. 

"I guess…. I am." Ples finally answered, after receiving a few gentle nods from his boyfriend. "I'm nothing like Casey, but… I think I can say I am. And… saved you?" He asked. Hanna was already heading around the island and back to his seat at the bar area, and Ples followed, sitting one chair away. 

"Yeah there were mutant squirrels and he chased them away and took me home and stuff." Hanna nodded, resting his head on his arms. "Hey, uh, question. Does the ticking ever bother you?" 

"…Ticking?" Ples shot a worried sort of glance at Casey, who had resumed work on the pancakes. "I, uh, what ticking? The h-hall clocks?" He searched Hanna's face for some kind of sign that he was right, but all he got was a tired smile as the redhead turned away to stare at the wall again with a chuckle. 

"Guess not, since you know, don't seem to notice it or anything." Hanna murmured, before his voice sort of quieted and his eyes seemed to drift away into their own little realm, leaving them slightly empty. Ples glanced at Casey, who was serving them all their helpings of pancakes. 

"He'll be alright. Don't worry." Casey said, setting the plates down on the bar and heading around to take the seat in between Hanna and Ples. "Hey, Hanna." He shook Hanna by the shoulder, and the redhead looked up, his eyes taking a long moment to focus on the person in front of him. "Pancakes are done."

"Awesome." Hanna said, exhaustion apparent in his voice even as he dug happily into the pancakes. They were warm and soft and filled with chocolate and they were completely demolished in a half an hour, all three men happy with their meal. 

"That was actually worth getting out of bed." Ples mentioned, leaning into Casey when the cop wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

"It was delicious." Hanna nodded, yawning broadly. 

"And now I think it's time we all slept." Casey nodded, feeling the sleep settling into his bones. It had been an incredibly long night. He yawned, stretching his arm, and was sorely tempted to fall asleep against the bar, Ples half against his chest, but he knew better. He could sleep in tomorrow but he'd have to be up at some point, and he would rather be in a bed, rested. 

And besides, when he looked over at Hanna, he knew beds were a good idea. The redhead was snoozing against the counter, his face propped on his arms, snoring softly. 

"You have to admit, he's cute." Casey said, slipping off the barstool. He gently lifted Hanna into his arms, the redhead reaching for a hold against his shirt with a snort.

"Yes, well, you said the same thing when you gave Veser our address and I'm coming to disagree." Ples chided, though he smiled all the same. The pair headed out of the kitchen and into the guest bedroom, where they pulled back the sheets and quietly placed Hanna into the bed. 

"It's just until I find his parents, and hey, if he's too much of a bother, I have no basis to mention kids ever again." Casey pulled the sheets over Hanna, watching the redhead roll over and squirm until he was balled tightly in the fabric, like it was a cocoon. 

"Yes, well, there is that silver lining." Ples chuckled, closing the door behind them as they exited the room. They made their way to the bedroom, where Casey stripped off his pants and they climbed into bed.

About ten minutes later, they both awoke to the door creaking open. Casey sat up, eyes squinting against the incoming light into their darkened bedroom. Hanna was silhouetted in the doorway, clutching tightly to his pillow. 

"Fuck." Ples groaned, burying himself underneath his pillow. Casey climbed out of bed, stumbling over to Hanna, who was staring at him with frightened eyes.

"I thought you left me." Hanna murmured, clutching his pillow tighter. Casey rested a hand on the redhead's head with a sigh. "Can I sleep in here?"

"Not in the bed." Ples raised a arm just long enough to convey his point. "Not tonight."

"I c-can sleep on the floor. I don't mind." Hanna nodded, to desperate to be in the same room to actually care whether or not he had a mattress. Casey nodded, rubbing at his eyes. 

"Hold on, I have an idea." He wandered out into the hall, entering the guest bedroom and flicking on the light. He then proceeded to gather all four of the pillows on the bed that remained, as well as the blanket at the foot of the bed. He carted them back down the hallway, stumbling only once, and into their bedroom. 

"What are you doing?" Ples asked, lifting his pillow slightly. 

"If the kid is going to sleep on the floor, I'm at least making him a pseudo-mattress or something. More comfortable than the carpet." Casey pulled the pillows over to the space between the bed and the wall, piling them up in a way that resembled a sort of soft mattress. Hanna smiled at him from the doorway, still clutching the pillow. Once the blanket was in place, Casey climbed back into the bed, watching Hanna close the door and trot over to explore the new sleeping quarters. 

Within minutes, the redhead was curled up and asleep in the pillows, snoring happily. 

"He better not keep doing this at five in the morning." Ples grumbled, sleepily curling up next to his boyfriend. 

"He'll be better in the morning." Casey yawned, tucking Ples's head under his chin. 

Or, at least, that's what he hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

In Which There Are Doctors and Tuna Sandwiches.

 

The bed was cold when Casey woke up the next morning. Sunlight streamed in the balcony doors, filtering through the curtains and casting a soft light against the floor. The clock said 12:21 in its large red block numbers. Casey yawned, stretching his arms out and taking up the entire bed, before sitting up. "God, what a night." He murmured, rubbing his eyes. After a moment, he peered over the side of the bed, expecting to see Hanna still sleeping. 

Except, the pillow-mattress was empty. Hanna wasn't there. 

Casey fought the urge to swear. Hanna was probably just somewhere in the house. He probably got up with Ples and had breakfast or something. He might be watching TV. He could be taking a shower. He wasn't necessarily gone. Casey drew in a deep breath. Yes, his heart was racing. Yes, for some reason, he felt panicked like mad. But that wasn't going to help him if something did happen. If Hanna had wandered outside and gotten lost, or had run off, panicking was not going to help him. Besides, Hanna was to desperately attached to Casey to stray far, right?

Right?

So, he pulled on a clean pair of pants and changed shirts, before heading out into the apartment proper. The hallway was clear. "Hanna?" He called, but all that greeted him was silence. The bathroom down the hall was empty, as well as the guest bedroom. The kitchen was warm from Ples's breakfast, but also clear, besides a note about sour milk and getting more later. The main living area was also clear, the TV off and cool. Casey poked his head out into the apartment hallway, and once again was met with nothing. 

"Shit." He closed the door and leaned against it. Okay, if Hanna had actually run away, he couldn't have gone far. It was probably only an hour or so at most that he would have been gone. 

But then, something hit him, and he raced back to the bedroom. The balcony door was closed, but that meant nothing. The balcony itself connected both bedrooms, so it was entirely possible

When he threw open the door, he sighed with pure relief. Hanna was sitting on the sturdy balcony railing, one leg swinging gently underneath him. The redhead looked up and smiled softly. 

"Hey, Edwardo, you, uh, you look stressed, you okay?" He asked, as Casey walked over and put his arms around the redhead's shoulders. 

"I'm fine. I just got a little worried that I couldn't find you, it's nothing." Casey tucked Hanna's head under his chin, and the redhead giggled. Yeah, Casey thought. A little worried my ass.

"You act my dad, like I'm gonna up and leave." Hanna leaned back into the comforting embrace, watching the city beneath them. It sprawled out before their eyes, like it was offering itself to them, wishing them its gods. Skyscrapers kissed the noontime sun, while smaller buildings seemed to roll along with the great, expansive hills on the horizon. Smells of hot dogs and exhaust drifted up to them, wrapping them in the city's hot embrace. A car alarm sounded in the distance. 

"It's okay if you get worried, though." Hanna said. His eyes drifted away from the city view and into their own place, his feet their focus. "I know I worry people." He wriggled his toes against the cold railing. Casey smiled at the words, chest heaving with a happy sort of sigh. 

"Did Ples get you breakfast?" Casey asked, pulling away to put his elbows on the railing and watch Hanna. The redhead didn't respond for a moment, and when he did he didn't look up. 

"Yeah." He nodded, absently, eyes empty. Suddenly, life rushed back into his face and he scrambled on the railing, nearly toppling into the abyss of the city in his haste to get down from his perch. "Oh man oh man oh man shitshitshit!"

"What?" Casey helped Hanna not fall to his death, only to be left behind as the redhead rushed for the door inside. 

"I was supposed to meet my doctor today andddd I'm so late." Hanna explained as he rushed for the door. Casey grabbed his keys on the way out, locking the door behind them as they exited the apartment. "He is gonna kill me so much."

"He's not going to actually kill you?" Casey tried to make that sound less like a question and failed, especially seeing the worry and anxiety behind Hanna's eyes. 

"You do _not_ know him, Thomas." Hanna raced down the stairs, two at a time, and nearly killed himself on the last few when he tripped, sliding down on his rear. He hopped back up so quickly, however, that Casey didn't even have time to ask him if he was alright. All he could manage to do was keep up as Hanna raced down the sidewalk, past the cruiser. 

"Wait, Hanna, I have the" Casey started. Taking a car would get him there twice as fast, right? He didn't understand why Hanna kept on running, turning the corner sharply. "Hanna!"

"We can't use the cruiser, police aren't welcome in the neighborhood!" Hanna panted, not stopping for a red crosswalk sign and nearly getting hit by a car, who honked angrily when Hanna patted the hood and moved onward. "You've gotta trust me, Jose!" 

Trust Hanna. Casey wasn't sure he was exactly willing to do that, but there was little stopping the redhead as he bolted down the emptying streets, leaving no choice but to follow. Hanna kept running, panting hard and back growing stiff with his own agitation at himself, making another turn into a back alley that seemed to be a dead end. Casey halted at the entrance, reflexively touching his gun. A prostitute with a dirty white stole looped around her  his?  neck eyed Casey with what seemed like more than passing interest, and it took all the officer's will power to focus on Hanna, who was busy knocking on a rather beaten door. 

"Hey, Worth! Worth, come onnnnn, open the fuck up!" Hanna shouted,  more than a little angry. He went from beating on the door with his fists to kicking it, the metallic bangs echoing against the brick alley. "Open this fucking door, Worth!"

"Yer late." The accent on the other side of the door was harsh, slightly broken, some kind of British or Australian with hints of not giving a fuck. "Again, Hanna."

"I couldn't help it this time god dammit!" Hanna continued to kick at the door. Casey watched the redhead's small frame, seemingly possessed in a rage, dent the metal door in slightly more than it was before. "Just let me the god damn fuck in!" This was accompanied with a sound that was somewhere between a growl of frustration and a scream, and Hanna went for the metal with his fists again. 

Of course, it opened the moment he laid into it, so he ended up toppling onto the man behind the door, only hitting him a few times before he realized who it was. The man was staring at Hanna like the kid was an ulcer, and after a few moments, he spoke again, his accent bouncing around a lit cigarette. "Get th'fuck inside, back room."

Hanna, now so subdued it was just as frightening, nodded and quietly wandered into the office beyond. "And who're you?"

"I, uh, Hanna's staying with me?" Casey fidgeted. This didn't _look_ a hell of a lot like a doctor's office, and the man in front of him didn't look much like a doctor. Besides the cigarette, he was blond, stubbly, and had a coat on it that had fur sewn around the collar. He also seemed to be tinted nicotine yellow. 

"Oh, so yer his new home. Huh." The doctor shrugged and extended a hand. "Name's Luce Worth. M'the kid's doc."

"I'm Casey Williams. You, uh" Casey shook the hand and was led inside, trying delicately to phrase the idea that Worth was not really that much of a doctor in looks. The office inside was sparse and covered in paper, and there was a weird green stain on the wall, but it looked generally like an office. At least, it seemed somewhat doctor's office-y. And there was a diploma hanging on the wall. 

"Don't look like much of a doctor?" Worth laughed, a harsh sort of bark, and went to dig around in his desk. "Yeah, get that all the time. S'mostly location 'n my damn smoking." He pulled a lighter from the depths of his desk and lit up a fresh smoke, exhaling slowly. 

"Why are you back here, anyway? It's rather" Casey could not find a word for the place. Grungy only fitted outside. Out of the way was too kind. A hell hole was rather harsh. "It's not a place I'd look for a doctor's office. And, I don't mean to pry, but smoking? As a doctor?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't pull that fuckin' shoulda known better bullshit on me. Back here, I'd get cancer from second-hand smoke just a'soon as I'd get it from smokin' m'self." Here, Worth wandered around his desk to lean against the front, cigarette bouncing with his steps. "And not thinkin' a'havin' one down here is why this place exists. Desperate fucks c'n come ta me fer their drug related needs, no fancy-ass doctor judgment required." 

He glanced to the right to exhale, and stopped. Casey followed his gaze to see Hanna poking his head through the back room's door, looking like a moping puppy with red eyes. Casey had to stop himself from moving towards Hanna - who he was sure had been crying - considering the glare on Worth's face. "The fuck'd I tell you! Get back in there 'n sit the fuck down ya li'le shit! 'N don't think those puppy-faces 'r gonna make everything fuckin' better!" Worth shouted, removing a shoe and chucking it at the door where Hanna's head used to be. 

"Hey!" Casey took a step forward, and one yellowed hand shot to his shoulder to stop him. 

"Calm th' fuck down, he's fine. He prefers it when m'an ass. Dunno why. Prob'bly lets him be all sad-ass Suzie 'r throw a tantrum 'r someshit with a reason." Worth shrugged again, shoulders and fluffy coat rising and falling with a sigh of a man who stopped giving a shit a while ago. "Dunno how you managed t'keep 'um, he's a mess."

"He, uh, he thinks I'm a zombie." Casey admitted. He was slightly uncomfortable with that fact, though admittedly it was more that he hadn't had the heart to correct the kid. 

"Yeah, he does that." Worth made his way for the back room, coat trailing behind him, lazily. Everything the doctor did seemed to be like that  lazy, monotonous, having done this hundreds of times before. "He's a lil' fucked, if ya haven't noticed."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Casey followed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Worth stopped just before the door, turning to face the officer with a lazy twirl. 

"The fuck d'ya think I am, a quack? 'Course I fuckin' know." Again came the bark of a laugh. "But I ain't gonna tell ya. Get yer panties outta yer ass. He'll tell ya in his own damn time. It's his ta own. Oh, 'n don't correct the zombie thing unless ya want him a sobbin' mess 'r someshit. I ain't motherin' him after that." With that, Worth turned and forced open the backroom door, shutting it after Casey stepped inside. 

The backroom looked a little more doctor-like than the main office, comprised of dark, clean walls and tiled flooring. An examination table sat in the middle of the room, on which Hanna sat. There were also counters along the walls, a metal sink, some dark cabinets, a large bookshelf, and a beaten up filing cabinet on the floor. A dark haired man in drab colors was loading books from a box to a shelf, and another young man sat on the counter near the sink, an IV and blood bag connected to his arm. He was deathly pale and wearing a sweater-vest, which looked not only out of place but also inappropriate to wear for being from the area. 

"Hahaha, busy today, eh Worth?" The dark haired man turned from the bookshelf, crossing his hairy arms. There was a bandage on his face, his forehead was mostly eyebrows, and he could be well described as "greasy". 

"Fuck off, 'Mont." Worth grumbled, heading around the examination table and giving the other man a good kick in the shins as he passed. "He's not a patient, he's Hanna's fuckin' guardian or someshit."

"Oh, oh wow. Haha. I'm so sorry. My name's Lamont Toucey." Lamont stepped around the table and extended a hand, which Casey took. He was laughing nervously. "I, uh, I tried to keep track of Hanna for a day and, well, hahahehe." He paused, chuckling. 

"'Mont lost the bastard in Target." Worth added, now digging through some of the drawers. "Had ta alert the fuckin' security." 

"I wasn't lost." Hanna put in, crossing his legs on the table. "I wanted to see the video games."

"Hanna, we found you stuck to a rake." Lamont crossed his arms, looking at Hanna with all the disapproval of a father-figure after his son ran off. 

"It wasn't that"

" _Hanging from the rake, Hanna._ " Those words ended the conversation, but a moment later Lamont chuckled, ruffling Hanna's head affectionately. "Have to say, it was really funny, though."

"You didn't hav'ta get the rake off 'm." Worth grumbled. "The fuck m'I gonna do with a rake?"

"Stab people, most likely." The young man on the counter said, shifting slightly. Worth glanced up, a wicked sort of smile coming to his face. 

"Huh, never thought'a that." The grin made Casey step backwards into the door. "Stab th'fuckers who can't pay." Here, Worth looked at Hanna pointedly. "Be fuckin' glad yer insured or you'd be first."

After a second of uneasy silence, Lamont was the first to laugh, before going back to stocking the bookshelf. Worth let out a huff of a noise and went back to digging in the drawers, leaving Casey to Hanna. "Hey, James," Hanna had given up ever getting his name right, "you met Conrad?" He gestured to the man hooked up to the IV. "He's a vampire."

"I am not." Conrad denied, but it fell on Hanna's deaf ears. 

"He's always here. Worth gets him blood, but he doesn't like to drink it." Hanna chuckled, because that was apparently very funny. Luckily, Worth derailed the conversation with a loud Ha!, having found the gloves he was looking for. 

"Now sit th'fuck still, this is gonna hurt." Worth snapped the gloves and wandered around the table, setting to Hanna's injuries. Casey sidled over to Conrad, who looked irritated. 

"Sorry about him." Casey tried. 

"Don't worry about it. He never listens." Conrad huffed, crossing his arms as much as he was able. "I've told him a hundred times and he ignores me. It's the blood bags." He was staring at Worth, who was giving Hanna a proper bitching while cleaning the scrapes on his arms. Casey turned his back to them, desperately trying to maintain the conversation to drown out Hanna's worrying yelps. 

"Why do you need blood?" Casey asked. Conrad smiled at him, slightly, understanding that the need for conversation meant he didn't exactly have time to make that sound any better. 

"I have anemia caused by iron deficiency. Most of the time, people take iron tablets and that shit, but, uh." Conrad prodded at the IV slightly. "For me, the longer I take them, the less they help. So I come in every so often to get pumped full of iron rich blood." The enthusiasm in his voice was faked, and both men chuckled. "I really hate coming, but the hospital just tries stronger supplements and those just make me sicker." Conrad groaned a little, and Casey let out a hum of agreement. 

"That's a lot of Worth's patients." Lamont had wandered over, unpacking a box of cool blood packs on the counter as he spoke. "Hospitals aren't the place for them. Either they'll be judged too harshly, or the hospital just won't try the risky shit that'll help best. Unless you're dying, or at least terminal."

"At least hospitals are clean." Conrad grumbled, running a pale finger across the countertop. "This place is filthy."

"Fuck, Connie, hospitals 're fuckin' dirty compared ta yer apartment." Worth decided to add his two cents, much to Conrad's dismay. "Th'fuck'd'ya do, spit shine yer floors?"

"I do not! And don't call me Connie!" Conrad raged, which only made Worth laugh. 

"Lay off him, Worth." Lamont chided. "You can drop the act, Hanna's out of it." Sure enough, Hanna's eyes were empty, his gaze staring at nothing. Lamont waved a hand in front of Hanna's face to prove it, and the redhead didn't respond at all, not even a blink. 

"Who says it's an act?" Worth chuckled, pulling the needle and thread he was using tight to close a set of stitches. "Fuckin' love tormentin' th'fagass."

"I am not a fagass!" Conrad snapped, again, but he was, again, ignored. 

"The cop in the room who is willing to keep Hanna would probably appreciate you mentioning it's an act." Lamont's tone was very dark with the word "cop", and the sentence snapped Worth's head up. 

"Cop?" He glared at Casey, good and hard. "Th'fuck, Mont?"

"He's a cop." Lamont put his elbows on the counter behind him. "I've seen him around town before, in his cruiser and such." He looked at Casey, who was rather startled that he was that easy to place. "Besides, those are police grade weapons." 

"How do you know that?" Casey frowned, staring right back at Lamont. Something seemed suspicious about him, and Casey didn't like it. And it wasn't the fact that Lamont reeked of shady dealer, either. 

"Calm down. I deliver some of your stuff at the station." Lamont raised his hands defensively. "I'm not a bad guy, trust me. Neither is Worth." 

"Fuckin' shit. Hanna. Hanna, you little shit, you better fuckin' focus." Worth was busy shaking Hanna by the arm, and slowly, Hanna tuned in, as though waking from a dream. 

"What?" He mumbled, eyes still empty, but focused on Worth's menacing scowl. 

"You brought a fuckin' cop." Worth shook Hanna again for emphasis. "The fuck'did I tell you about bringin' cops?"

"Nothing?" It was hard to tell if Hanna really had forgotten or if he was just faking it to stay out of trouble. 

"I think it was more th'n nothin'." Worth growled. "I said no fuckin' cops."

"If you're worried I'd tell someone, I won't." Casey stepped in, putting a hand on Hanna's shoulder in almost defense. 

"It's not that." Lamont stepped forward as well, almost trying to mediate the conversation. "It's that, seeing a cop coming in and out of the office would probably deter a good number of the patients that come here."

"Which means, ya ain't comin' back." Worth growled, and for once Casey detected a hint of menace from Worth directed at _him_. There was a different feel to his anger this time, and the officer quickly realized that Worth's old anger was an act, but this anger was real, and possibly more dangerous. "Ya can't keep waltzin' in here like some regul'r customer. Look like yer investigatin' the place, 'n we can't have that."

"Well, I can't let Hanna just walk out here on his own." Casey frowned back at Worth, crossing his arms and trying to look more intimidating that normal. "Either someone escorts him, or he doesn't come."

"Well, hope you had plans ta drop th'fucker off with'a family or someshit, 'cause ya ain't comin' back." Worth pulled himself up to his full height to end the conversation. "Kid gets a foster home, 'n you stay away."

The words "foster home" triggered something deep in Hanna, who, for the most part, had been watching the conversation ping-pong quietly, like he was observing a tennis match. But those words brought a rage into Hanna's eyes and he reached up to grip the hand Worth had on his shoulder. Worth jumped and made to pull away, but that only allowed Hanna a better reach and the redhead was quickly latched onto Worth's coat. 

"No!" He screamed, fists full of fur. "You are not forcing me in a foster home! Not again!" He shook Worth violently by the coat, before Casey's hand rested on his shoulder and with that, he turned to latch onto the cop, hard. "No no no no no no Percy please don't let them send me to a foster home I like living with you please don't let them take you away from me please please please!" He then burst into high pitched sobs, fists curling in Casey's shirt. 

"Fuckin' shit, Hanna." Worth swore, adjusting his coat. 

"You really should know better than to mention the 'F-H' word." Lamont grumbled. "Hanna's had some issues with those."

"Well, fuck all this. Either you go, or th'kid doesn't come back and he better be fuckin' back next time." Worth growled, but it was clear he had given up on fighting it. From the way Hanna was gripping Casey's shirt, there was going to be little separating the redhead from his new best friend.  Hanna continued to sob, and Casey quietly patted his hair. 

"If I promise to come unarmed and without the cruiser, would it make any difference?" Casey asked, not looking up. He knew how much Hanna needed Worth, and it was certainly apparent how much Hanna needed him, and a compromise had to be sought. "It's the best I can do."

"It's going to have to work." Lamont sighed. "I don't think I'd figure you a cop without the guns."

"Fine. Fuckin' shit. Why'r'ya so attached ta th'kid enough ta let him stay in the first place?" Worth asked, putting a hand on the table. "He's a fuckin' wreck. S'like keepin' a retarded puppy."

"I hope you're not planning on taking him in for good." Lamont warned, quietly. "I don't think anyone can survive living with him for good."

"I'm actually going down to the station after this to see if I can make finding his parents a priority." Casey said, rubbing Hanna's back. Even Conrad, who had been curled up on the counter, trying to avoid Hanna's rage, laughed at that statement. 

"I'm pretty sure that's an effort wasted." Lamont sat on the table, putting a hand on Hanna's back. Hanna hiccupped, but his sobs began to quiet and still. "He never really mentions them. We figure they're dead."

"Well, it's going to be my job to find that out." Casey replied, holding Hanna until Hanna decided to let go. The redhead wiped his nose on his sleeve and took a deep breath, eyes red and puffy. "Is Hanna done here?"

"Yeah, fucker's got a clean bill 'o health fer the moment. Don't let 'm kill 'mself, got it?" Worth grumbled, but it was easy to tell it was once again the act. "Hanna, ya better keep yer ass outta trouble. Got it?" The threat was absorbed, and Hanna nodded, hopping off the table. 

"Bye guys." The redhead waved, smiling even though there was little happiness to it. "Sorry you had to see that, Conrad." 

"It's okay, Hanna. Be careful, okay?" Conrad sort of half smiled at Hanna, and Hanna smiled brightly in return, before rushing out the door. With a half wave behind him, Casey followed. 

"Welp, " Worth sighed to their retreating backs, "this is gonna be a hell'f'a week."

~*~*~*~

"Man, you really have a way with words." Hanna said around a mouthful of fries. They were on their way home from the station, where Casey had successfully talked his superiors into letting him take Hanna's missing parents as a full on case. "They didn't even question you or anything."

"Well, when someone's lost their parents, it really is a very high priority to find them. Just like when parents lose their kids, it's extremely high priority to find them. It's like an Amber Alert, but reversed." Casey explained, as they waited at a stoplight. The city was beginning to grow dark around them, but instead of stilling, it was growing more vibrant. Multicolored lights lit up the streets and various signs flashed at passing cars. 

"So it's an Rebma alert?" Hanna guessed with a laugh. Casey had to laugh as well as he pulled into the parking area for their apartment. 

"Yeah, I'd guess you'd say that." Casey opened his door, and the pair piled into the street, locking the cruiser and heading up to the apartment. When Casey opened the door, he was greeted immediately by Ples, who looked frustrated and like he was nearly out of his mind. 

"Thank god you are here." Ples latched onto his boyfriend and nearly collapsed into him. "I hate to say it, but these children, Casey, they're multiplying."

"Hey, geaser!" The voice echoed from the kitchen, and at the sound Hanna darted behind Casey, watching wearily. "Why no mayo?"

"I can't get him to go home." Ples groaned. From the kitchen door emerged a young teen, holding a tuna sandwich. His hair was somewhere between extremely ashy gray and a white-blond, his eyes were bright green, and he spoke with a slight lisp. His outfit also had a thing for sharks, considering the shark finned hoodie. 

"You can't make a tuna sandwich withoutoh, hey Casey!" The teen waved at the cop, and then paused. "Dude, you weren't lying when you said you had a kid now. Woah."

"Hanna." Casey put a hand on Hanna's back and gently guided the redhead in front of him. "This is a friend of ours. His name is Veser."


	4. Chapter 4

In Which There Are Selkies And Sleepovers

 

Casey gently pushed Hanna in front of him, and the kid shrunk in on himself slightly, embarrassed to be under scrutiny. Veser, taking a large bite of his tuna sandwich – mayo or no mayo – looked Hanna over carefully. "I thought you hated kids, Ples, really."

"I do." Ples replied, weakly, sinking into a nearby chair. 

"But like, don't you two have to agree on shit before you can adopt – _can_ you adopt?" Veser quirked a brow at the consideration that the two men in front of him might not actually be able to adopt a child. Them being gay men never phased him as any different than a man and a woman, so the idea itself never crossed his mind. 

"No, we can't." Ples answered again, with a deep groan. 

"Yeah man I was about to say if you could adopt why the fuck hadn't you like adopted me or someshit." Veser took another bite of sandwich and flopped down on the sofa. And it wasn't just an ordinary flop. It was a grade A, knock your feet out from under you and bounce flop, and it caused Ples to sit up in a weak defense in the cushion's honor, to no avail. "But then, why's he here?"

"I'm working to find his parents." Casey answered, putting a hand on Hanna's shoulder. Hanna curled his toes, leaning back against Casey slightly. "I'm officially on the case." 

"Sweeeeet missing persons cases are awesome." Veser polished off the sandwich and, after licking his fingers clean and wiping them on his pants, hopped up from the sofa. He trotted over to Hanna and thrust out a hand. "Nice ta meet'cha, kid. Hanna. Yeah."

Hanna, at the hand, yelped and jumped back into Casey, unsure and affronted. Veser's grin softened, and he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Hey, kid, c'mon, it's okay. I'm a friend here. Nothin' to be scared of." He smiled again, a smile that showed off his teeth, and Hanna eventually smiled back. 

"Hi." Hanna murmured. "Your teeth are really sharp. It's awesome." He nodded. "Are you like half shark?"

"Half… what?" Veser screwed up his eyebrows and stuck a hand in his mouth to feel his teeth. Normal teeth. He was about to tell the kid how wrong he was when he saw Casey, behind Hanna, mouth _play along_ , and Veser decided, from the look on Casey's face, to do just that. "Nah, man, I'm, uh… uh…." He wracked his brain for something cool he could be part of, and his mind went to the stories his mother used to tell him before his life went to hell. "I'm like half selkie, man. Seal and shit."

"Wow, I've never met a selkie!" A light came to Hanna's eyes, and he grinned full on. Veser grinned back, proud of himself. It was like scoring a girl, but more awesome because this kid could be his wingman or something. Veser had never had a wingman, and he generally cited it as the number one reason he didn't get girls. "Do like, people make fun of you a lot for being like half selkie?"

"Now, Hanna." Casey put a hand on Hanna's shoulder to distract him from the question, as Veser's face had fallen from its wide grin into a sorrowed frown.

"Nah, Casey, it's okay." Veser waved a dismissive hand at the cop, before continuing. "And, yeah, kid. I'm not the most popular guy in highschool, yaknow. It's more the, uh, looks and the… unfortunate impediment." Veser muttered. He would have said lisp if he didn't have problems with the word. The man that named it a lisp was a cruel, cruel man. 

Hanna reached out and put a hand on Veser's shoulder, nearly startling the teen out of his skin. Veser smiled at the gesture, and Hanna smiled with him. "Yeah, highschool was tough." 

There was a pause, then a quizzical grin from Veser. "Was?" He asked, and it got the attention of both adults as well, who had been watching the friendship form from the sidelines. "Dude, _was_? Aren't you like twelve or something?"

Hanna, well, Hanna sort of exploded. "I am _not_ twelve I am twenty-four years old!" He shouted, shoving Veser roughly away by the shoulder. 

"Wait, you are twenty-four?" Ples asked, from across the room. This caused Hanna to let out a frustrated scream, and he ran for it, out of the room and down the hall. "It was just a question…" Ples called, though the effort was wasted. It was clear Hanna was long since out of earshot. "Well, that news went over well."

"But he looks like freakin' ten!" Veser threw his hands in the air in his defense. "You guys gotta admit he does not look older than me."

"Veser, it doesn't matter what he looks like." Casey chided, voice low and more frustrated than anything else. After a second, he sighed, and the frustration seemed to leave his shoulders. "I'll go get him."

"Wait." Veser stopped Casey before the cop could head into the hall. "Is he…. Okay? I mean like, _you know…_ " He made the hand sign for crazy, and Casey would have dismissed the query had Veser not actually look concerned. 

"I don't think so Veser, no." Casey shoved his hands in his pockets. "But he does better when I don't act like it." 

"Got it, chief." Veser nodded, flopping again on the couch. "Tell him I'm sorry, will ya? If it'll help."

"I will." Casey nodded, before heading down the hall. He knew exactly where to find Hanna, and that was the balcony. The redhead was leaning on the railing, head in his arms, sobbing hard. "Hanna?"

"Go away!" Hanna snarled, flinging an arm around in an attempt to hit Casey if he had gotten too close. Casey hung in the doorway, watching the redhead quietly. "Just go away! Leave me the fuck alone!" 

"Hanna…" Casey took a step forward, opening his arms to welcome what he expected would be a sobbing Hanna in need of comfort. Instead, Hanna lashed out, striking the officer lightly in the chest. 

"I said get the fuck away from me!" Hanna pulled back his fist again for another blow. "You tricked me, you made me trust you, you are all _liars_!" If it wasn't for the venom in his voice, his tears would have swallowed his words. "You made me think you'd believe me for once and you _lied_! You lied lied lied lied LIED!"

"I do believe you, Hanna." Casey retreated to the doorway, watching Hanna's form rise and sink with every heaving, tear choked breath. "I always have."

"Liar!" Hanna's hands came up to pull at his hair. "No one ever believes me! Not once has anyone ever believed me!" His screams drifted out over the city, mingling and dying among car horns and sweet, drifting music. Eventually the rage in his died off some, and he looked up at Casey, hands falling to his sides. Casey held in a gasp, as Hanna's eyes were clearer than the cop had ever seen them. "I… I have delusions. Sometimes. Most of the time, possibly-probably all of the time but I can't tell so I really don't know but the fact of the matter is that they're _there_. Hallucinations and delusions and I-I _see_ things, Carlos, I see things and I hear things and they're so-so _real_ to me but no one else ever sees them and no one ever believes me. Because I'm crazy everyone passes everything I say off as nonsense because a lot of the time I guess it is nonsense to them because they don't see it even though it's just that they _can't_ see it."

"Hanna, you're not crazy." Casey took a step towards the redhead, and Hanna didn't move except to run a hand through his hair and laugh, low and full of regret and sadness and a bitter irony. 

"That's the first time anyone has ever not believe that I'm crazy." He turned to the railing, clear eyes drifting over the landscape. "But I am one hundred percent out of my mind most of the time. It's… Worth… said it was… borderline personality disorder, once, I think, I can't remember, I mean, I remember but I can never sort out what actually happened and what I just think happened so it might not have happened but I think I was clear headed enough at the time." He turned, looking at Casey with his clear blue eyes, and smiled. "But yeah, borderline. H-hard to form relationships, instability, suicidal tendencies, paranoia…. No wonder people don't believe me." He laughed again, and this time his laugh had such sorrow in it Casey couldn't help wrapping the redhead in a hug. 

"I believe you, Hanna." He said, feeling the tiny bandaged arms wrap around his torso. "I will always believe you. Even if you insist I'm green." He smiled into the shock of red hair, and he felt Hanna chuckle underneath him. 

"Just because I'm having a moment of clarity does not mean you're still not a zombie, Francis." Hanna murmured into the red shirt. He paused. "You know, I don't…. usually have moments like this. Clear moments. Moments when I recognize that I'm… I'm sick. Most of the time I just roll with what I see and freak out if people tell me I'm wrong because it's like they can't see the elephant in the room and I think the only thing I really realize is wrong is when I just get so emotional, angry or sad or upset or-or well any of it and I can't really control the surge of feeling and it's frustrating but that's it. I don't get it. I just never get it, but then moments like this happen and it feels like I'm looking at myself from the outside and I can see everything that's wrong with me and I can't help but look and just feel disgusted that I can go so long and not realize I'm completely fucked up. Seeing things, hearing things, feeling things, and never knowing the difference between the real and the fake and I dunno, I just… I wonder why people like you don't pity me more, 'cause I can't tell that you do. Maybe… maybe it's better if you do leave, Iago." Hanna tried to press away from Casey, like a cat receiving unwanted attention. "Maybe it's better because if you're gone I won't bother you with all my mental shit and you and your boyfriend and your other friend can be happy and you don't have to hide any pity you have for me and I'll be fine alone."

"Hanna, I'm not leaving you." Casey bent down so that he was eye to eye with Hanna, holding his shoulders. "When we first met, I put you in the cruiser and when I went to get a blanket, you grabbed at me and asked me not to leave. You said everyone leaves. Hanna, I'm not everyone, and there's no way you're getting rid of me just because you're just you. I won't ever leave you. Not ever."

With these words, Hanna latched onto Casey's middle again, the sobs renewed. Casey sighed, stroking his head. He smiled, though, because there was something different, now. He knew Hanna more. He knew there was some part of Hanna that understood what was wrong, and there was some part of Hanna that was clear, and while he realized he may never see Hanna like that again, it was a welcome reality check in the messy chaos helping Hanna had become. He held the twenty-four year old there, cradled against his chest, until the sobs began to still and the redhead pulled back, chuckling and wiping at his eyes. 

"Man, Jesus, you're awesome." He said, and when he looked up, his eyes were red and bright but not as clear as they had been. 

"Mm." Casey smiled, ruffling Hanna's hair. "Now, there's a teen in there who would probably love to apologize for the age mix up, you know."

"You mean the mighty lisping selkie dude?" Hanna asked, excitement filling his voice. 

"Yes. His name is Veser." Casey started into the bedroom, and Hanna followed, jogging happily along behind him. When they reached the main room, Ples was the first to notice, and he stood, Veser standing seconds later. Apparently the room had been filled with a tense sort of silence, as it still resonated in the air around them. 

"Hey, uh, Hanna." Veser scratched at the back of his neck. "Sorry about callin' you twelve and shit, man." He smiled, and Hanna smiled in return, looking none the worse for wear from the experience on the balcony. 

"It's okay, Veser, I forgive you." Hanna nodded, sticking out his hand, which Veser shook triumphantly. "I mean you're pretty awesome so it makes up for it. You're awesome like Alfie." 

"…Alfie?" Casey had to ask, stepping around them to sit on the couch. Ples joined him, sitting down next to him and reclining in the crook of Casey's extended arm. 

"What? To have a fountain of names a couple are gonna come up that aren't so great." Hanna shrugged, flopping down on the floor beside the couch. 

"Veser." Ples frowned when the boy flopped on the couch next to him. "Shouldn't you be going home?"

"No way old man, my dad is shitfaced and there is no _way_ I am going back there." Veser snuggled into the couch to prove his point. 

"You can't just stay here, we don't have a spare room anymore." Ples tried to explain in calm tones, but the twitch of his eyebrow when Hanna spoke next gave away his inwardly not calmness. 

"Hey hey I know I know!" Hanna hopped up. "I can move my awesome bed thing into the guest room and Ves and I can have a sleepover! And then Veser can stay here for the night and not go home to his dad and nobody has to leave me and it's all good! Annnnddddddd you guys get the bedroom to yourself tonight!"

"It's not like they do anything in there that would _require_ privacy." Veser teased, elbowing Ples in the ribs. Ples balked at the comment before finally finding words. 

"Veser!" He started, but the teen waved off his comments with a dismissive hand. 

"I was just joking, gramps, jeeeeez. Lay off." He grinned none the less. 

"Can he please stay Edward can he can he can heee?" Hanna began to beg, crawling half over the armrest near Casey so he was half in the man's lap, giving him the most powerful puppy face he could muster. 

"I'm alright with it." Casey shrugged. "Ask Ples." He then proceeded to burst out laughing as Hanna crawled over him to get to Ples, who was being hassled on one side and begged on the other. 

"Alright, alright!" Ples finally gave in, amid cheers. "But please, for the love of god, don't destroy anything this time Veser."

"I didn't destroy anything last—" Veser halted at the look on Casey's face, and sighed. "Fineee, okay, I won't destroy anything."

"So he can stay?" Hanna asked, rolling off Ples and onto the floor before bouncing to his feet. 

"Yes, Hanna, just be—" And Casey was left addressing open air as Hanna dragged Veser off to the guest room. A door creaked open amid the red head's constant chatter, then there was one door slam, then a second door slam, and the apartment was left in silence. 

"We should probably sleep ourselves." Ples said, before standing. He took Casey's hand, and they retreated into their bedroom, closing the door. Once in their pajamas, they curled up in bed, Ples's head on Casey's chest, and for a long moment, the room rested in the peace it had long forgotten it could have. 

"Casey?" Ples asked softly, feeling Casey's hand on his hair and trying to concentrate on that. Concentrate long enough to get the thought he was having into words, because if he didn't say it, it would haunt him forever. Casey hummed an affirmative noise into Ples's hair. "What if you can't find Hanna's parents?" 

"I'll find them." Casey said. "It can't be that hard."

"What if..." Ples shook his head, fighting the sleepy feeling behind his eyes as the movement of Casey's chest, his gentle breathing nearly lulling him to sleep. "What if they're… you know." 

"Dead?" Casey added the word Ples didn't, and the other man nodded, eyes glancing up even though he couldn't see Casey's face in the darkness. "I don't think they're dead." Casey finally said, but it was without conviction. His mind had wandered back to Lamont and Worth, about how they thought it was a lost cause, finding Hanna's parents. "I bet he just got lost, is all."

"But Casey." Ples shifted, slipping upward so he could look Casey in the eyes. "Let's think about this for one moment. What if, even if it's rather improbable… what if they are dead? What would happen to Hanna?" 

"I don't… I don't know." Casey's eyes closed as he remembered the red head's reaction to just the words Foster Home. If he was so adverse to foster homes, and his parents were dead… there were precious few options left. 

"If he has no parents… must we be the ones to keep him?" Ples asked, and Casey sighed deeply. "I mean that sincerely, Casey. He… yes, alright, I don't particularly like having children around." Ples reached up, letting his hand brush lightly across Casey's face. He wished he could see the man's eyes, and therefore his thoughts. 'But… if we have to be the ones to keep him, if he means… that much to you…"

"We'll… Let's just cross that bridge when we reach it, yeah?" Casey smiled, lightly kissing Ples's thumb before taking the other man's hand. "I know what you're saying, but…. I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do." He slipped forward, letting their foreheads touch slightly. "But it'll work out. I'll find his parents, and then you can go back to worrying over Veser." 

"I-I don't worry over Veser!" Ples tried to sound convincing, but the smile on Casey's face eventually broke him. "Alright, fine. I do worry about him, a little. I worry sometimes… he's going to have another one of _those_ fights with his father. I worry he's going to show up here bleeding or with all his things on his back after becoming a dropout. I worry… I worry we're going to be the ones they call first when they find him somewhere, because of something foolish he's done, or some _stunt_ he's pulled…" Ples stopped, opening his eyes, which he had closed tightly as he thought. "I… I worry about Hanna, too, you know. I worry… if there any hope for him?" 

"There's hope, I promise, Ples. If I have anything to do with it, there's hope for him yet." Casey smiled, and after a long moment, he watched Ples's eyes drift close, holding hands with the man even after he had fallen asleep. 

"There's always hope."


	5. Chapter 5

In Which There Are Jazz Bands and Late Nights

 

"Hey, Gabriel?" Hanna was seated in the side of the patrol car, holding his seatbelt with both hands. "Where're we going?" It was a few days later in the late afternoon, dawning on evening. The sun was still barely visible behind the buildings, and the night was brisk and chilled for a summer evening. Casey piled into the driver seat, starting the engine with a grin on his face. 

"I have practice." He said, leaning back in his seat and letting the engine hum for a moment before pulling out of the parking lot. "I thought you might like coming with me more than staying alone in the house." At those lines, Hanna nodded frantically, grateful that Casey considered him in the first place. 

"What kind of practice?" Hanna inquired, eyes trying to focus on the lights just beginning to blink out outside the car as they drove. The streets were fairly empty, but even then it seemed like the ride wandered through streets at an easy pace, with no rush to go anywhere. 

"I, uh, I'm in a band on my off time." Casey chuckled. "Jazz band." 

"Jazz?" Hanna glanced over at the cop, eyes lost in himself, graced with a distant memory of record players and music, a piano and dancing, and his parents. "My mom really liked jazz."

"She did?" Casey grinned broader, because this was the first time Hanna had ever mentioned his parents. He tried to smile reassuringly at Hanna, to keep him talking without pressuring him into anything. 

"Yeah. She she could play some stuff." Hanna, having realized what he said, panicked. He tried to sound nonchalant and shrugged, really just trying to avoid the conversation. 

"You don't bring them up a lot." Casey said, after a moment of silence. Getting no response, he ventured further down the conversation's road. "You don't think they're looking for you, at all?"

"No." Hanna muttered, suddenly very dark in tone. He had shrunk in on himself in the seat, squirming slightly. "They aren't looking for me. I know they aren't." He growled. "Leave it."

"Hanna, if they're you're parents, they have to be---"

"I said LEAVE IT." Hanna turned slightly in his seat to get the point across, the boiling anger floating over the seat and collecting on Casey's shoulders. They stayed like that, the silence tense and sharp, until the car behind them honked. The light they had stopped at turned green. 

"Hanna, I'm sorry." Casey said, as they sped away from the light, crossing into another, shadier, part of town. "I just"

"It's fine." Hanna sighed, the frustration leaving with it. "Lots of people want to know. I don't want them to know. It's no big deal." He grumbled. He shifted in the seat, as though he were trying to melt into it, and Casey felt horrible. He _knew_ Hanna's parents were a touchy subject, but he pressed anyway and now Hanna's mood had fallen through the floor. Casey clutched the steering wheel as he finally parked, breathing out deeply to release tension. He didn't need to go in there like this. 

"We're here." He said, climbing out of the car. Hanna followed, mood lifting at the sight of the old building. It was rough brick and wood, an old neon sign hanging over the double door entrance set into the corner of the building.  It could have been a speakeasy at some point, with a big set of doors that opened down to a basement area, which intrigued Hanna greatly. But Casey headed toward the wood double doors without veering, and Hanna eventually followed like an obedient puppy too afraid to be too far away from his master. 

Inside, the grandeur was worth leaving the basement behind. They stood on what could count as a balcony, the main seating recessed lower in front of them. Hanna rushed to the old, dark wood railing, nearly vaulting straight over, but catching himself last minute. In the main seating area, there were several tables of dark, rough wood, like the tops of barrels had been impaled on posts and set up as tables. Candles decorated the tables, giving the room a warm, fragrant feel. From the rounded stage in the corner drifted soft jazz from a CD player, filling the mostly empty room with a lively air and a bouncing beat. A woman, her hair long and dark, with blue streaks, and surprisingly beautiful, bustled about the tables, cleaning and bouncing along to the beat of the music. 

Casey made his way down the few stairs to the lower level and proceeded to the other end of the room, where a small bar area resided. Three others sat at the bar: one, a classy looking woman with dark tresses hanging down her back and exposed porcelain colored legs, the other two young men. One of the men, olive skinned and with hair like a sunset, streaked with dark colors, turned at the sound of the door closing, and grinned at them with perfectly white teeth.  He caught Casey's eye, and they exchanged a grin. 

"Yo, cop!" He cheered, vaulting from the teetering stool, which the other man stilled. "Casey, man, how are you?"

"I'm doing well enough, thank you, Casimiro." Casey hugged the other man  Casimiro  tightly, patting him on the back twice. Hanna watched from the rail, sinking below the top line of the wood. The other man proceeded to turn around, having finished his drink, face pale and showing very little emotion, framed in dark hair and his flat mouth surrounded by a trimmed beard. 

"Casey, it's good to see you." He didn't smile, but there was a light tone to his voice, and Casey trotted over to clasp hands with the man, which was apparently as close to a brotherly gesture as he would get. 

"Hey, guys," Casey pulled back, smiling brightly, "I have someone for you to meet." He chuckled. 

"We've met Ples, man." Cas cooed, leaning back against the bar, one hand snaking along to rest on the other man's shoulder. 

"I think he means the redhead hiding from us." The other man replied, finally breaking into a smile. Cas proceeded to chuckle as Hanna ducked behind one of the posts as though it could hide him. Casey turned to Hanna, nodding him over. 

"This is Hanna, guys. He's staying with me and Ples for a while." He waved a hand for emphasis, and eventually Hanna shuffled over, shy and only mildly responsive. "Hanna, this is Casimiro. We call him Cas." Casey gestured to the olive skinned man, who lifted a hand in a wave.  "And that's Finas." He gestured to Cas's stoic friend, who nodded in response. He looked over to notice the woman that had been cleaning tables approaching, and grinned. "And this," he paused when she threw her arms around his neck with a playful giggle, "is Toni."

"Hiya, kiddo!" Toni waved, smiling. "Good lord, Casey, you find all the most adorable people."

"Like Conrad, you mean?" Cas teased, leaning forward. Finas put his hand out to keep the taller man from falling over, with a small smile on his face. 

"I didn't find Conrad, now. I just told him where you guys worked." Casey cut in, laughing. Hanna had to chuckle with him, because Toni's presence made him feel incredibly comfortable. "Is there something you need to tell me, Toni, dear?" 

"So, you boys going to play, or what?" Toni asked, before the conversation could keep going further, giggling madly. 

"Of course, if Casey is ready." Finas stood from his stool, brushing off his coat. Cas swaggered over to the cop and threw an arm around his shoulder, before throwing an arm around Hanna's shoulder. Hanna backed up from the arm with a half yelp, batting at the offending limb. 

"Hey, kid," Cas didn't seem to notice the way Hanna looked at him with half paranoid eyes. "You ever heard this guy play?" 

"No?" Hanna replied, unsure if this was a good thing or a bad one. Cas laughed, loudly, startling Hanna to hide behind the newly freed Casey. 

"Oh man then what the hell are we waiting for?" Cas started for the stage, vaulting up onto the top with practiced ease. Finas followed, taking his time about things and not seeming to want to rush at all. If Cas was a bumbling, sugar high child, Finas was the patient guardian following. 

"Hanna," Casey addressed the redhead, and Hanna felt better at the sound of Casey's voice, "if you want, you can sit at the bar, or we can pull out some chairs for one of the  tables up closer." He put a hand on Hanna's shoulder, and the redhead grinned. 

"If you want," the sultry purr echoed from behind them, and both men turned to the woman seated at the bar. Her voice sounded inviting, but dangerous, like a panther poised in the black of night, waiting to pounce on something young and innocent. "We can share a table." 

"Hanna, this is Adelaide. She's one of the more prominent patrons." Casey gave Hanna's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and Hanna nodded. "She doesn't bite."

"Much." Adelaide added, slipping off her stool with the well practiced air of a high class lady, a smile on her face. Hanna nodded, backing up against Casey slightly. 

"I'll sit, too." Toni gave Hanna a comforting smile, and Hanna smiled in return, relieved.  He liked Toni more than he liked the other woman, who made him nervous. The three of them headed over to a table, Toni pulling up three chairs and sitting in the middle, which Hanna appreciated. 

"Thanks." Hanna murmured, as they watched the musicians warm up on the stage. 

"No problem, kid." Toni crossed her arms on the table, and after a moment Hanna's focus followed hers, towards the stage. Cas was busy cleaning off a golden brass trumpet, talking animatedly to Finas the entire time. The other man was half listening, the other ear close to the strings of his upright bass as he tuned it. Its size was massive, but he held it up without issue. He plucked a few strings and smiled softly, pleased at the sound. Casey made his way over to the old piano pushed to the back of the stage, sitting down at it and testing the keys, which rung with a pervading clearness in the open room. Then, with a four count, the music began. 

Hanna watched in awe as they played. The beat was uplifting and fast, racing past him and running in pace with his excited heartbeat. However, the music was still smooth, like a dripping dry wine flowing into a glass, never faltering. The trumpet blared, covering the high ranges and ringing through the eves, while the bass covered the lowest of low notes, almost bouncing across the stage and making the table vibrate slightly. The piano, sharp and soft at the same time, filled in what was missing, giving a pep to the trumpet and a ring to the bass. Hanna glanced at Cas, who had so much energy on stage, moving along with the music and his trumpet, the notes dancing along with him. Finas, beside him, was the exact opposite in how calm his body was, but his hands raced across the strings, balleting between each note with a deep passionate smoothness. However, when Hanna glanced at Casey, it was the piano player that kept his attention the hardest. He bounced to the beat, grooving along with the shared music, and his hands amazed Hanna most. They pirouetted across the keys, spinning and twirling up and down scales, the sound coming from the piano sweet and loud and harsh and soft all at once. To Hanna it sounded like magic and it sounded like hope, and when the group broke into a piano solo, Casey stood, the music raising his body to meet the challenge as the keys below his fingers danced. 

"Wow." Hanna whispered, leaning over the table. 

"Yeah, it's pretty awesome." Toni spoke a little louder, so Hanna could hear her. The song ended, and the three on stage broke into chatter, words like "measure" and "alter" and "maybe a little more umfph" catching Hanna's ears. "They like to play for the crowds sometimes in the evenings."

"They're worth paying for." Adelaide purred, sipping at a glass of red wine.

"Oh yeah" Hanna nodded. "Hey, wait, you said you know Conrad?" He suddenly sat up, excited. The comment from earlier suddenly took a front seat to his attention, the band behind him now ignored. 

"Yeah." Toni chuckled. "He's stopped by a couple of times since Casey told him about this place. He's nice. Kind of touchy, but sweet." She smiled, almost a little dreamily. 

"Yeah well I mean this is totally a vampire hangout and everything so no wonder he fits in." Hanna shrugged. He looked up as Casey approached them and sat down with them, folding his arms on the table and grinning to himself.  

"Vampires?" Adelaide sounded rather confused. Toni joined her in the confusing look. "What do you mean, vampires?" 

"Well I mean like you're a vampire and Cas is one and Finas is one." Hanna rambled. Casey waved a hand before Adelaide could correct Hanna, and sat back in his chair with a sigh. 

"Speaking of," Casey tried to rail the conversation away from vampires without being too obvious. "You never answered my question. Is there something you need to tell me?" He grinned, and Toni laughed. 

"Conrad and I are not together." Toni chuckled. Hanna jumped, startled and slightly frightened, when from behind Casey, Cas suddenly appeared, one arm looped almost protectively around Finas's shoulder. 

"Yet." He added, laughing. "You should've seen them. All gushing over each other the other night." He laughed, making faces at everyone like he was Toni from the other night. The faces made Hanna giggle, and Finas eventually poked Cas in the side, making the taller man yelp.

"Casimiro, really now." Finas chided, smiling none the less. 

"You mean gushing like you and Finas when you get sentimental?" Toni sparred back, making similar faces at Cas, who flushed, frowning. 

"Hey!" Casimiro ended up being half restrained by Finas, and Hanna laughed at Cas's face, before yawning. The evening had grown late, the lights of the city at night bright out the windows. It was well past closing, and bedtime. 

"I think it's time we headed back." Casey said, pushing himself to his feet. His eyes met Casimiro's green ones, both of which closed in a sigh. 

"You never stay that long now a-days." Cas said, giving Casey a long hug. 

"Yeah, but Hanna's tired and I'm tired." Casey shrugged. 

"You now see how I feel." Finas joked, wrapping a protective arm around Casimiro's middle. "Keeping up with him."

"Hey now." Cas grinned, planting a soft kiss on Finas's lips. "You know you love me."

"Mm."

"You should come back more often. A bring the family." Toni gave Casey a goodbye hug and a quick peck on the cheek. "I haven't seen Veser in ages.  He still having vocal trouble?"

"He doesn't go to his speech therapist anymore." Casey chuckled, heaving Hanna out of his chair and holding him up like a sleepy two year old in their parent's arms. 

"What happened?" 

"You know how it is. She noticed the bruises, came to me, I can't do anything about it if he won't come forward about it, she tried to get him to do it, he threw a book at her head." Casey sighed.

"I should have expected as much." Toni sighed, walking the pair to the door. "Really though. Bring him. The company might do him some good." She watched them out, waving softly as Casey gently laid Hanna in the passenger seat of the cruiser. 

The drive home was quiet. Hanna snored softly in the seat, undisturbed by the movement of the car or the occasional honking horn. He slept on, right through Casey carrying him inside or laying him on his makeshift mattress. Ples wasn't home  his firm was having a celebration as the CEO was retiring, and the other man had mentioned possibly being out late, sharing a few drinks here and there with his colleagues  and without him, the house was absurdly quiet. 

Casey retreated to the sofa in the den area with laptop in hand, the door to their room still open as to hear Hanna if the redhead needed him. With a backdrop of ticking clocks and a soda in hand, Casey began to search. He first went through the police databases, looking for Hanna's name on a missing person's report, a Amber alert, anything. He then just started using every other means he could possibly think of. He was lacking something. He had a last name, sure, but it was common enough and nothing came up when paired with Hanna's first name. 

He became engrossed in the virtual world beneath his fingers, losing track of time as he worked. He would only look up when he heard a noise from his room, but as soon as he deemed everything all clear, he would return to the relentless searching. The clock ticked through ten pm, eleven pm and midnight without his notice, the apartment dark and the only light the blue from the lap top. 

Eventually, he managed something. An old report, from a few years ago. A familiar last name  Cross  on a unsolved case in the back of the station's comprehensive filing system. There was very little listed on the file itself  just that the coroner had deemed it a possible murder/suicide, as there was no evidence of a killer besides the husband, but shotgun blasts were not exactly natural causes. There were, however, pictures, although grainy and old. They showed two people, man and wife, dead from shots to the chest or back  Casey wasn't an expert, he couldn't tell  clutching each other's hands in death. Below, the only other photos were from high school yearbooks.  The husband, red haired, spectacled, with a funny looking grin and sideburns; the wife, somewhere between auburn and dark strawberry blond with massive curls and more freckles than Casey could count. They both had startlingly brilliant blue eyes, like Hanna's. 

Casey frowned. It could be, but there was no way to be sure. Hanna's name wasn't mentioned anywhere in the report, and there was no mention of any child at all. Maybe it was omitted, but he couldn't call it on his hunch. This was an option, nothing more. 

The door slammed, taking Casey from his computer. It was two in the morning, and Ples was in the doorway, a bottle of something clutched in one hand and hair disheveled. "You're still awake." He said, his slight British accent still very clear, even with the intoxication behind his eyes. Casey quickly shut his computer. It was nothing for Ples to see. 

"I was doing things online." Casey smiled. "Paperwork. It's online now, did you know? It's strange. Paperwork without the paper." Casey was lucky Ples was mildly drunk, otherwise the obvious lie would have not worked out as well. Instead, Ples strode over, simply placing his head on Casey's shoulder. 

"I was hoping I could just fall into bed next to you." He muttered, taking a swig from the bottle. Casey sighed. 

"I know. I'm sorry." He smiled, wrapping his arms around Ples's waist. "That doesn't mean you can't now, though. I'm ready for bed if you are."

"Sure." Ples still didn't seem too happy as they walked to their room, his arm slung over Casey's shoulders affectionately. "You know something I realized tonight?"

"What?" Casey smiled, knowing Ples's thoughts were not going to stay on one train tonight. 

"I hate my boss sometimes." Ples grumbled, as they entered the room. He had enough sense to quiet down, and began to fumble with his vest. "He's a right pig when he's drunk, you know? Grabbing everyone's ass, mine, Sheila's" Casey eventually had to help Ples with his vest, and went ahead on his shirt buttons as well. "You know he's being promoted? CEO. He's the replacement." Ples stripped off the garments as Casey finished, kicking off his shoes and undoing his belt with practiced ease and stripping off his pants. 

"And you?" Casey asked, removing his own clothing and climbing into bed. Ples sat down, giving Casey a long, hard look, full of frustration and annoyance, before taking a very long swig from the bottle. "I see. I'm sorry, honey."

"No, no." Ples finished the bottle, setting it on the night stand before reclining on the bed, curling up next to Casey tightly. "S'okay." His slur came with sleep, not the alcohol. "I like where I am. It's just frustrating sometimes. You know you're so bloody close and yet every time you think you've got it, you're wrong." 

Casey's mind went to the photos. The red haired coupled and the murder/suicide. So close but most likely wrong. "Yeah." He nodded into Ples's hair. "I understand what you mean. I understand entirely too well."


	6. Chapter 6

Unhinged Chapter 6

In Which There Are Playgrounds and Fighting

 

"So I hear you and Casey are going to have some fun today." Ples said, half bent over a hot stove as he measured batter into a pan. It was Saturday morning, a few mornings later, and it was Casey's day off, so the detective had decided to take Hanna out for the day. 

"Yeah, he said we can go wherever I want!" Hanna replied, grinning around a mouth full of pancakes. Ples had gotten up to make the pancakes from scratch, hoping to put a good mood on the "occasionally irritable", as Ples had tried to put it the night before, kid before Hanna and Casey left for the day. 

"I see someone's excited today." The soft, half in sleep voice left the hallway first, Casey trailing behind with a soft smile on his face. His hair was slightly disheveled, his chin more unshaven than usual, and his eyes were rimmed with dark bags. It was obvious he hadn't been sleeping well, if at all.  He yawned. "You didn't have to do that, Ples. I could have made breakfast."

"I felt I should do something." The words from Ples were clipped, short with worry – the kind that sits deep in one's heart, expanding quickly and engulfing it in black and concern – even though the man hid his emotions under a half smile well. Casey stepped into the kitchen, straightening his tie, and Ples passed him a cup of coffee and a good morning kiss. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" Ples asked, hands resting on Casey's hands on the cup, soft but firmly gripping them.

Casey's smile went worried as he saw the look on Ples's face, the desperate eyes and furrowed brow. "Sure." He answered, half asking why with the statement, brow creased in confusion and curiosity. 

" _Alone._ " Ples whispered, hands covering Casey's on the coffee cup squeezing slightly, imploringly. Both pairs of eyes slowly shifted to Hanna, who seemed too engrossed in his pancakes to notice if they vanished for a second. They stepped together, quietly disappearing into the hallway for their talk. 

"Is everything okay?" Casey asked quietly, hands cradling the hot coffee mug. He made a move like he would take one of Ples's hands in his own, but stopped himself. Ples's posture was defensive, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, and his smile had dropped when they retreated. He sighed, turning to Casey with a look of heartbreaking worry. He stepped in, putting a hand on Casey's mug holding hands. 

"I should ask you the same." The Englishman said, reaching up to put a hand on Casey's face, thumbing the dark circles under his eyes softly, the gesture intimate and kind. Casey leaned into the hand slightly, the fingers warm. "You look awful."

"Thanks." Casey chuckled, eyes closing as the hand left his face, the warmth leaving a mark on his cheek. 

"Don't be cheeky." Ples managed a smile for a moment. "I do mean it. You look awful. Are you getting sick?"

"I'm fine." Casey smiled, shifting the mug in his hands so he could put one on Ples's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"I can't not worry, Casey." Ples removed himself from Casey's hand with a step back, looking at the man like he might not have really been seeing him. "You're a policeman. You've been shot before. I've been trained to worry." He smiled briefly, before stepping back in and taking Casey's floating hand in his own, spreading his fingers slightly. "I will always worry about you, especially when you look like you do. Have you been sleeping? I can't remember you coming to bed." The brown eyes looked through the little glasses at Casey imploringly. 

"I told you, I'm fine." Casey smiled at the hands in his, the warm gesture making him feel like a nap. The answer to Ples's question was no, he had not been sleeping. Not much, and not well. He'd been up on the computer most of the nights, trying to find more leads. Anything, everything. But there had been nothing new. "I've been sleeping." The lie was added as an afterthought, and Ples's brow furrowed more, disbelieving him. 

"You don't look like it." Ples murmured, eyes still trained on the webbing of Casey's fingers, tracing the edges of the digits with his thumb. There was a long moment where he said nothing.  "Is this about Hanna, still?" He finally asked, the words coming out like Casey had been experimenting with a deadly plague or going out past curfew. He looked up, catching Casey's eyes with his own. 

"Ples, please—" Casey started, holding onto Ples's hands even as the man backed away. 

"You should take a break from this case. Get some sleep, clear your head. It's getting to you, Casey." He sounded legitimately worried, and this didn't settle well with Casey at all. 

"It's not getting to me." He almost growled, and Ples snapped his hands back, leaving feet of space in between them. "I'm fine. I've been sleeping, it's okay." Casey set down his mug on a nearby table, massaging his face with his hands. 

"No, you haven't, and yes, it is." Ples stated, crossing his arms again. The words made Casey look up. "You haven't been in bed for the past few nights. I haven't… felt you there, at all. I keep waking up hoping you'd be next to me for once because then maybe this would be okay, but you haven't. Twice I've found you asleep on the sofa with that computer." Ples didn't look at Casey, but at the wall, foot tapping in agitation. "Tell me this, prove that this case isn't getting to you – what is today about?"

"What do you mean, what is it about?" Casey asked, exasperated and confused. 

"You know what I mean." The tone was threatening, slightly, hard and unwilling to play this game anymore. "Don't lie – is today about Hanna, or is it about this case?"

"They're the same thing!" 

"No they're _not_!" The shout was sudden, nearly cutting Casey off, and it left a silence behind it that left a bad taste in both men's mouth's. "Hanna's happiness and well being have nothing to do with this internet thing you keep doing and you _know it_. Stop _lying_ to me, for god sakes!" Ples stepped in, angry but reaching out. "I just want to know what's happening to you, Casey."

"I told you, I'm _fine!_ " The shout was unplanned and uncalled for, Casey jerking away from the reaching arms slightly, causing Ples to draw back. "Fine! Maybe I'm trying a different tactic with this case today, _fine_! But that doesn't mean I'm forsaking Hanna's happiness to do it!" He couldn't keep the harshness from his voice, the defensive growl. 

"You're using him." Ples snapped back. "You're using him and you're leaving me for this case, and you say it's not getting to you? How can you even convince yourself of that?"

"Because it's the truth----!" The snarl was cut off by a small noise, a voice. Hanna's hand was wrapped around the molding of the arch that separated the kitchen from the hall, his blue eyes peering just past the edge. 

"Michelangelo?" Hanna asked, soft and quiet and almost a little scared. Casey backed up a step, retreating for his coffee. He glanced up at Ples, who was huddled in on himself against the wall, staring at his feet. It was silent for a moment, before Hanna carefully stepped inward and wrapped his arms around Casey's waist. Casey put a hand on the redhead's head, shooting Ples a look meant to read I'm sorry, but only really looking guilty. Ples just went back to staring down the hall, unresponsive. "I thought you left me." 

"I'll leave you two to your… _adventures_ , then." Ples said, suddenly, bitter and hurt. He started down the hallway, and Casey couldn't bring himself to part from Hanna and run to his boyfriend, to try and make this right. The silence was raw around them, grating and cold. 

"You sure you don't want to come?" The question came from Hanna, all innocence as he clung to Casey's shirt. Ples paused before he could retreat into their room, glancing back at Hanna and forcing a soft, sad smile. He returned and bent down so he was Hanna's level, taking the redhead's reaching hand in his own. 

"Not today, Hanna. I think it's best I stay here. Maybe another time." Ples avoided looking at Casey all together, voice soft and sad and held together by the remains of broken resolves and bitter melancholy. "I promise you, though, I'll go to the park with you sometime soon." He forced another smile, patting Hanna's hand before retreating to the bedroom, door slamming.  

"Come on, Hanna. Let's go." Casey ruffled the redhead's hair, leading him out of the hallway and to the door, a guilty frown on his face. It was clear Ples didn't want to fix things right now, so he decided getting out and letting his boyfriend have the space to himself would be the best option. Then they could talk later. 

He hoped. 

 

~*~

Besides the occasional direction from Hanna, the ride to the park was silent. Casey gripped at the wheel, taking sharp turns by accident and looking rather distracted. When they pulled into the parking lot for the park – a park Casey hadn't seen, one that Hanna had led him too; he hoped he'd find someone that knew Hanna there, but it was a slim hope – the officer relaxed into the seat with a heavy sigh. 

"Did you guys fight?" Hanna asked quietly, picking at his shoes. Casey looked up, surprised the redhead had picked up on it – however, thinking back, he probably saw it all. Casey grimaced. He hadn't wanted Hanna to see any of that. Hanna had had a problem in the short time they'd had him with raised voices – they'd found out when they got in a spat over cleaning the kitchen a few days earlier, a precursor to the fight that day, a warning of the bubbling tension and raw concern that didn't like grating against each other that were ready to blow. The new bandages, slightly pink, on Hanna's legs and arms and face told more than Casey could bear to remember. 

"Hanna, I'm sorry…" He said, trying to get the apology out before Hanna decided to react his version of normally to fighting. However, Hanna didn't seem to hear the words, fingers laced under the white laces of his sneakers, pulling on them lightly. 

"I didn't hear a lot, but…you sounded like Worth and Lamont do sometimes when they fight… or like mom and dad did." Hanna's voice was tiny as he spoke, refusing to look at Casey. The officer sighed, smiling sadly and reaching out to rub the kid's hair. 

"Yeah, but we're okay." Casey promised. "We're… going to be okay." He tried to make it sound less like he was reassuring himself, but failed. Hanna looked up, innocent eyes honestly curious. 

"You guys still love each other?" Hanna asked. The word love sort of his Casey in the gut like a wrongly done punch. It was as though the concept of love coming from Hanna seemed weird, especially with such innocence. Like it didn't matter Ples and Casey were both men. "Like how mom and dad love each other?" 

"Yeah. At least, I think so." Casey grimaced at the fact that he corrected himself. "I hope so. I... I do, anyway." 

"Then don't worry!" Hanna's elation startled the officer, who looked like he'd been shot with a bolt of lightning. "Mom and dad always loved each other so when they fought it didn't matter 'cause they made up later and I bet you and Ples will make up too 'cause when people love each other and stuff sometimes fighting is the only way to show it." Hanna nodded, returning to his fascinating shoes. 

"Hanna." Casey tried, shifting over now that the car was parked to put a hand on Hanna's shoulder, but the redhead was already moving, vaulting out of the car and leaving Casey stranded. 

"Come on Kurt it's a park!" Hanna knocked on the cruiser's windshield, and Casey sighed, following the redhead out of the car. He really hadn't heard much, the officer thought, locking the vehicle and trailing behind the redhead. "I haven't been here in ages mom used to bring me here to wait for dad to get home from work and it still looks the same and everything!" Hanna's babbling continued as he went for the swings. Casey watched, smiling silently. Hanna was so happy to be there, it didn't matter today. It was like Casey could learn everything about Hanna and still be surprised, all the time. 

"You said your parents brought you here?" Casey asked, taking a seat on a bench near the swings. 

"Sometimes." Hanna's excited speech ran to a screeching halt as he realized what he was saying, his shoes fussing at the ground beneath the swing. "But it's-it's been a long time." Casey stood, transferring to the swing beside Hanna. 

"You… don't like talking about them." Casey had noticed this last time Hanna mentioned his parents, but it felt appropriate to bring it up now. "Worth and Lamont said you never mentioned them before now…"

"No, not really." Hanna chuckled. "I mean I'm getting a little better but it still makes me sad and stuff 'cause I miss them and it's really nice that you're trying to find them and all but maybe instead you could, uh, just let me stay forever and be happy?" Hanna's mood had softened, but hadn't really fallen, the idea of perspective happiness too good for his mood to hit the floor as it so often did. "Cause… you won't find them." The sober words, however, had hit the floor. It was like the passing of a dark cloud over the sun, rushing quickly over Hanna's mood as his eyes went distance and he stared at the ground. "You won't find them and you'll kill yourself trying or fighting with Ples or some other way and I don't want that again."

"Again?" Casey asked, slipping his swing closer and putting a hand on Hanna's shoulder. "What do you mean, again?"

"I don't want you to find them." Hanna looked up, good mood gone, eyes all kinds of hurt and sad. "I don't want you to do this anymore,  Bad things happen when this comes up and I like living with you and Ples because you… you guys don't treat me bad or try and put me in f-foster homes and you love me and give me pancakes and take me to the park I want to go to that I remember and it's all _good_ and I've b-been better I can tell kinda maybe but I h-haven't really…" He trailed off, staring at his hands and palms and the scars and new cuts and bruises. "I've been happy more or less and I mean I like being happy and it's been a long time and I'm just… don't look for them." Hanna clenched his fists, looking up. "Please don't make this go away."

"Hanna, what do you mean bad things happen?" Casey asked, removing himself from the swing and kneeling by Hanna on the ground. Lamont and Worth had said it was a lost cause, then the murder suicide that was too familiar to be good, and now Hanna begging him… something didn't feel right. Hanna shook his head hard, struggling against the hands on his arms. 

"No!" He pushed the swing back as far as it would go, knees up as close as he could while maintaining distance, arms close to his face. "No! Don't ask me, please don't ask me, don't make me tell you!" He was sobbing, it was easy to tell in his voice as it broke. "Don't make me tell you 'cause if I tell you it'll just happen again and I-I'll be alone again and I won't be happy or-or anything so just-just _leave me alone_!" Hanna tried to bolt from the swing, tripping as his feet got tangled, but in moments he was sprinting away across the park, leaving Casey alone. 

Casey stood, staring after Hanna hard. Everything was making less and less sense. Hanna didn't _want_ him to find his parents, everyone was telling him bad things happened and it was a lost cause… the images from the murder suicide resurfaced fresh in his mind, more real this time, the memory of the smell of blood in his nose and if he hadn't seen this kind of thing before Casey might have thrown up. 

The what-ifs from the night not so long before rang in his head. What if… What if Hanna's parents were dead?

Casey threw his earlier quest to the wind – he no longer needed to ask around anymore, not today, not right now, the what if in his head was enough to make him forget his other suspicions – and ran after Hanna. He had no idea where the redhead had gone, and for a long, heart wrenching hour he searched everywhere in the park. Under slides, on playsets, everywhere. Eventually he was brought to the edge of a small patch of woods, and with as much courage as his worried heart could muster, he stepped into the darkening abyss of trees. 

The sobbing was his first clue. The lost patterned shoe was his second. 

He found Hanna up a tall tree, missing a shoe and crying. The officer scaled the tree quickly, flinching as Hanna scuttled away as best he could. "Hanna." Casey offered a hand to the redhead as he found perch on the branch, and after a long moment the redhead jumped in for a hug, nearly tackling them both from the tree. "It's okay."

"Please don't Casey, please don't I don't want bad things I want good things please just let us be together and live in peace and not have anything bad happen." Hanna managed through his sobs. 

"I won't let anything bad happen, Hanna." Casey smiled, rubbing the redhead's hair softly. "I promise you. I won't let _anything_ , and I mean _anything_ bad happen to you or Ples or myself, okay?" Casey murmured. Hanna nodded against the orange shirt that he was feverishly clutching. 

"C-Can we stay here for a while?" Hanna asked, softly. "I don't want to leave."

"We can do whatever you want." Casey replied. "We can stay here as long as you want, and go get dinner." And not go home, he added. He didn't know what Ples would say if he mentioned his discovery, but he felt it wouldn't be received well. Not now. He needed time. He just needed more time, that was all. This was a mess, and Casey had no idea where next to start. But the only thing to do was keep moving. 

He'd figure this out soon. He had to. For Hanna's sake. 

For all their sakes.


End file.
